
Book. JTT^ S 3 . 
CoiyiightN"-/ ? & / 

CDEXRIGHT DEPOSm 



S A V I T R I 

AND OTHER WOMEN 











SAVITRI 

AND OTHER WOMEN 












BY 

MARJORIE STRACHEY 












G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
NEW YORK AND LONDON 

^be •Rnicfterbocfter ptesa 
192 1 














Copyright, 1920 

BY 

G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 



©CLA601735 



A:^ 




Printed in the United States of America 



^^'OV 29 1920 



TO 

F. E. W. 



vu 



THESE stories are not meant for stu- 
dents of Folk-lore. Most of them are 
taken from translations and adaptations, 
and I have had no scruples in further 
adapting and altering them myself. A list 
of the books I have used will be found at 
the end, so that anyone who cares to may 
verify for himself the extent and character 
of the changes I have made in my originals. 



Contents! 



IX 



Savitri 






3 
23 


The Lay of the Ash Tree 






Yanka and her Brothers 






39 


Saint Iria .... 






49 


Vassilissa the Wise . 






57 


Janet and Tamlin 






73 


LiBussA THE Prophetess . 






85 


Joukahainen's Sister 






lOI 


The Bamboo-Cutter's Story 






. 123 


The Building of Skadar . 






143 


The Courtship of Etain . 






155 



^abttrt 



IV ^ ANY years ago there lived in the 
country of the Madras a king, whose 
name was Aswapati. Now Aswapati was a 
man of virtue; he was pious and devoted 
to the service of the gods ; he was truthful, 
trustworthy, and pure of heart; he was 
generous, and intent on the welfare of all 
beings, and his people loved him. But 
when he grew old and still had no children 
he became very wretched. And in hope of 
propitiating the gods he vowed himself to a 
life of penance — fasting, praying, making 
oblations, and refraining from all sensual 
pleasures. For eighteen years he observed 
these practices, and at last one day, as he 
stood before the altar, the holy fire became 
pregnant, and there issued forth a beautiful 
smiHng goddess. 

''O King Aswapati," said she, **I am 
pleased with thy holy Hfe and thy devotion 



^abttrt anb <2^ti)et Momm 



to the gods. Ask what thou wishest and 
it shall be granted to thee." 

"Goddess," replied the king, "I wish 
for many sons worthy of my race. If thou 
art pleased with me, grant me this." 

"It is granted thee," said the goddess, 
* * to have a daughter, and she shall be val- 
iant and mighty. Rejoice, but make no 
answer. ' ' 

With these words the goddess vanished 
away. 

Aswapati returned to his palace, and 
in due course a daughter was born to him, 
to whom the name of Savitri was given. 

Savitri grew in splendour like the waxing 
moon; and as she passed from childhood 
to youth, and her breasts rounded and 
she became tall and slender, she resembled 
a golden goddess, and no one dared seek 
that radiant girl in marriage. 

One day it happened to be a festival, 
and Savitri bathed and went up to the altar 
to make her offerings. Then she took the 
sacred flowers that had been laid before the 
god and went to her father. She bowed in 



^abtttt 



front of him, gave him the flowers she had 
brought, and with joined hands stood be- 
side him. Aswapati looked at her and he 
was proud; he looked at her again and he 
was sad. 

''Daughter," said the king, "the time 
for giving thee in marriage has come, and 
no one asks for thee. The father who 
does not give his daughter in marriage is 
disgraced." 



A Httle while afterwards Aswapati was 
sitting in his palace, conversing with 
Narad, the wise man, when Savitri came 
and stood before them with bent head. 

"Speak, daughter," said Aswapati. 
"What is thy wish? Do not be afraid to 
speak before Narad, but tell us all that is 
in thy heart." 

"Father," replied Savitri, "there once 
lived among the Salwas a virtuous king 
named Dyumatsena. He became blind, 
and his enemies seized his kingdom, and 
he, his wife, and infant son were obliged 



^abtttt anb iBtt^tv 929 omen 



to take refuge in the jungle. For years 
he has been living there, leading a life 
of holiness and penance, and his son, 
Satyavan the Truthful, is now a young 
man. It is this Satyavan, my father, 
whom I have accepted in my heart for my 
husband." 

At these words Narad, the wise man, 
seemed much troubled. 

*'Alas!" he said, ''Savitri has done 
wrong in this choice." 

''How!" exclaimed the king. **Is 
Satyavan then not courageous, intelligent, 
or full of energy ? ' ' 

"These virtues are his," replied Narad. 

* ' Is he then not magnanimous or pious ? ' ' 

''These virtues too are his," replied 
Narad. 

" Is he then not faithful, modest, patient, 
or beautiful?" 

"These virtues too are his," replied 
Narad, "and he is, moreover, obedient 
and courteous." 

"What, then, are his defects?" asked 
the king. 



^abttrt 



"He has only one defect," replied Narad, 
"but it is a fatal one. Twelve months 
from this day Satyavan will die." 

"Alas!" exclaimed Aswapati, "this is 
indeed a fatal fault ! Come, dear Savitri, 
now that you have heard Narad 's words 
give up Satyavan and choose another 
husband." 

"My father," replied Savitri, "a woman 
can only choose once. Let his life be long 
or short, let his virtues be many or few, I 
have accepted him in my heart as my 
husband, and I cannot change." 

"King," said Narad, "Savitri cannot be 
made to swerve from her decision. More- 
over, no other person has the virtues of 
Satyavan. I therefore approve of the 
marriage and advise thee to proceed with 
it." 



On an auspicious day King Aswapati 
and his daughter set out for the sacred 
forest where Dyumatsena was living. On 
approaching the blind king's abode. As- 



^atJitri anb 0ti)tx 511 omen 



wapati came near on foot, and seeing him 
sitting on a cushion of grass under the 
shade of a tree he bowed low, and an- 
nounced himself as As wapati. 

*'Be seated," said Dyumatsena, **and 
tell me thy wish." 

*'0 holy and royal Dyumatsena," re- 
plied As wapati, "this is my daughter 
Savitri. Take her for thy daughter-in- 
law, I beg of thee, and let her be married 
to thy son Satyavan." 

"Thy daughter," replied Dyumatsena, 
"is accustomed to the luxuries of a palace. 
We, who have been deprived of our king- 
dom, are practising austerities, and leading 
lives of self-denial. Thy daughter is un- 
worthy to live like this — how could she 
bear our penances and mortification?" 

"My daughter," replied As wapati, 
"knows well enough that happiness is not 
always found either in the palace or in 
the forest, but that it flies to and fro, and 
comes sometimes to one, sometimes to 
another. Do not reject my suit in this 
way. We are equals, and an alliance be- 



i^atitttt 



tween us would be fitting. Accept, then, 
my daughter as the wife of Satyavan." 

* ' Aswapati , ' ' replied Dyumatsena, 
''years ago I wished for an alliance with 
thee ; but while I hesitated I lost my king- 
dom, and it was too late. Let this wish 
then, which I had so long ago, be fulfilled 
to-day." 

So Savitri and Satyavan were brought 
together, and with all proper ceremonies 
the marriage took place. Aswapati gave 
his daughter silk robes and many beautiful 
jewels, blessed her, and returned to his 
palace. And when he had gone, Savitri 
took off her silk robes and jewels and 
dressed herself in bark and red cloth. 
And by her kindness and gentleness, and 
the sweetness of her speech, she pleased 
her mother-in-law, her father-in-law, and, 
above all, her husband, Satyavan the 
Truthful. Thus they lived together in the 
sacred forest, practising austerities and lead- 
ing holy lives. But night and day Savitri 
thought of the words spoken by Narad. 



10 ^atiitri anti 0ti)tt 318lomen 

The time passed quickly by, and the 
hour appointed for the death of Satyavan 
approached. Savitri, in whose mind the 
words of Narad were ever present, had 
counted the days as they passed, and when 
only three remained, she took the vow of 
a three days' penance, during which time 
she was neither to eat nor to sleep. Dyum- 
atsena, when he heard of her vow, was 
grieved; he rose and went to Savitri, and 
spoke to her kindly and affectionately. 

"Thy vow, Savitri, is a hard one; thou, 
who art the daughter of a king, wilt find 
it difficult to fast and watch for three days 
and nights." 

"Father," replied Savitri, "do not be 
sorry for me. I shall be able to observe 
my vow." 

"So be it," said Dyumatsena, "for it 
does not become one like me to say to 
thee, ' Break thy vow' ; I ought instead to 
say, 'Keep thy vow.'" And with these 
words he left her. 

So Savitri kept her three days' penance, 
and she became pale and thin. And during 



^abitri ii 



the last night, thinking that her husband 
was to die next day, she watched, fasting, 
in extreme anguish. At last the sun rose, 
and, thinking ''To-day is the day,'' Savitri 
performed the morning sacrifice, and went 
and stood before her parents with her 
hands joined and her head bent. And the 
aged king and queen spoke the morning 
greeting to her, "Mayst thou never be a 
widow!" And in her heart Savitri said, 
"So be it!" But watching the sun rising 
in the sky she awaited the fatal hour. 

"Now, Savitri," said Dyumatsena, smil- 
ing, "thou hast performed thy vow; come 
then and take thy morning meal." 

"I will eat at sun-down," answered 
Savitri; "this was my vow." 

Presently Satyavan took his axe and 
his basket and prepared to go into the 
forest to fetch the fruit and the wood they 
needed. 

Seeing this, Savitri said to him: 

* ' Do not go alone ! I will go with thee ! 
I cannot bear to be separated from thee!" 

And Satyavan replied : 



12 



^abitri anb 0ti)tv Homen 



"Dear Savitri, the forest paths are 
rough and hard to walk on; besides, thou 
art exhausted by thy vow. How canst 
thou go with me?" 

* ' I am not exhausted," exclaimed Savitri. 
"I want so much to go! Do not prevent 
me!" 

And Satyavan smiled and said, **Come, 
then, if thou canst get permission from 
my parents. 

So Savitri went to her father-in-law 
and said to him, "My husband is going 
out to gather fruits, and it is my wish to 
go with him. Besides, I have been here 
now nearly a year and I have never seen 
the forest. I much desire to see the flow- 
ers and the blossoming trees." 

When Dyumatsena heard her he said : 

"Since Savitri married Satyavan I do 
not remember that she has made any 
request. Have then thy wish; but do 
not hinder Satyavan in his work." 

So permission having been granted, 
Savitri set out with Satyavan, and her 
face was smiling, but her heart was torn 



^abitri 13 



with grief. And they walked through the 
forest, admiring the deHghtful woods and 
the flowering trees, through whose crimson 
branches blue-and-green peacocks flew. 

"Look!" said Satyavan. "See how 
pleasantly the streams flow, and how the 
brightly coloured petals drop from the 
bushes into the water and are carried 
away!" 

And it seemed to Savitri that she was 
cut in two; for she smiled and answered 
gaily Satyavan's words, which sounded so 
sweetly in her ear; and, remembering 
Narad, she looked upon her husband as 
already dead, and a ghastly fear con- 
strained her heart. 

When they had gone some way into the 
forest, Satyavan began picking fruits ; and 
when he had filled his basket he took his 
axe and began to cut branches off the 
trees. After a while he stopped and said : 

"The sun is making my head ache; I 
will stop and rest awhile." 

And he laid down his axe. Presently 
he said : 



14 ^atiitri anb 0^tx Momen 

''Savitri, I do not feel well. I feel as 
if my head were being pierced by arrows. 
I will sit down." 

So he sat on the ground, and Savitri sat 
beside him. 

After a while he said: 

"Savitri, I wish to sleep." 

Then Savitri took his head in her lap 
and gazed at her husband in agony, not 
knowing what to do. And Satyavan 
closed his eyes and relaxed his limbs and 
became very still and very cold. 



Suddenly there appeared before them 
a gigantic figure, dark but glowing like a 
firebrand, red-eyed, and carrying in his 
hand a cord. Savitri trembled, for he 
was terrible to behold ; and, gently placing 
her husband's head on the ground, she rose 
to her feet and spoke with shaking lips : 

' ' Surely thou art a god. Tell me, I beg, 
who thou art and why thou art come." 

"Savitri," replied the god, "I am Yama, 
the god of Death. Thy husband's days 



^abitti 15 



have run out and I am come to fetch him. 
It is because of thy love for thy husband 
and thy life of austerity that I have ap- 
peared before thee and answer thy ques- 
tions." 

So saying, Yama pulled the soul from 
Satya van's body and tied it lightly with 
his cord. Then Satya van ceased to breathe 
and his body lost its lustre and faded like 
ashes when the fire is out. But Yama, 
having done what he came for, turned and 
went southward, carrying Satyavan's soul 
with him ; and Savitri followed him. 

At this Yama exclaimed: ''Stay, Savitri; 
do not follow me. Go back and bury thy 
husband. Thy duties as wife are now over, 
and no living person may travel farther 
with Yama." 

"How can my duties to my husband be 
over?" replied Savitri. "I must follow 
him wherever he goes. Not even the gods 
can separate husband and wife. Wise 
men say that walking seven steps with 
another makes a friendship. Listen, then, 
to what I have to say. There are many 



i6 ^abitrt anb <Z^ti)er Wiomen 

duties in life — the search for wisdom, love 
of the family, penance, and meditation. 
But it is not necessary for everyone to 
practise all the virtues. Yama, I have led 
a life of love for Satyavan." 

'*Thy words are true," said Yama; 
"they please me by their clearness and 
reason. Ask, then, any boon thou wilt, 
except the life of thy husband, and I will 
grant it." 

**My father-in-law is blind," said Savi- 
tri; ''grant that he may recover his eye- 
sight and his strength." 

"Thy wish is granted," said Yama; 
"and now, Savitri, come no farther with 
me, but return." 

"I cannot return," answered Savitri. 
"Is it not true that even to speak once 
with the virtuous is much to be desired? 
How much more desirable, then, is their 
friendship and their love! Having found 
a virtuous husband, why should I ever 
leave him? Moreover, not even the gods 
can separate husband and wife." 

"O Savitri," exclaimed Yama, "thy 



^abitri 17 



words are full of wisdom, and delight me 
much. Ask, then, another boon, except 
the life of thy husband." 

"My father Aswapati has no sons," said 
Savitri. ''Grant that many sons, worthy 
of his race, may be born to him." 

"Thy wish is granted," said Yama; 
"and now, Savitri, do not weary thyself 
with coming farther, but return." 

' ' What weariness can I feel in the pres- 
ence of my husband?" asked Savitri. 
"The things that are hateful to us are 
wearisome, and we are wearied also by 
wicked actions and foolish desires. But 
to follow those we love, even to the ends of 
the earth, will never weary the foot or the 
soul." 

"Savitri," said Yama, "come no farther 
with me ; but for thy wisdom and learning 
ask me another boon, except the life of 
thy husband." 

' ' Grant that to Satyavan and me many 
sons may be born," replied Savitri. 

"Thy wish is granted," said Yama, 
"and now that all thy wishes have been 



1 8 ^abtttt anb <2^ti)et Momen 

fulfilled, cease from following me and go 
back home." 

''To be truly virtuous," said Savitri, 
"is to do what is right without expecting 
a reward; and in like manner, when one 
loves truly one does not consider whether 
a return will be made or the desire gratified, 
but follows where the heart leads." 

"O Savitri," exclaimed Yama, ''never 
have I heard such words as thou speakest ! 
The more I listen the more enchanted I am ! 
Art thou then so devoted to thy husband ? 
Ask of me some incomparable boon!" 

Then Savitri flung herself upon the 
ground and clasped the dread knees of 
Yama, and kissed his feet. 

"O mighty god," she cried, "grant, 
grant, I beseech, the life of Satyavan! 
Without him I am as if I were dead ! With- 
out him I do not wish for life ! Without 
him I do not wish for happiness ! Without 
him I do iiot wish for heaven itself ! More- 
over, thou hast promised me a boon which 
cannot be fulfilled unless Satyavan returns. 
Thou hast promised me many sons and 



^abtttt 19 



takest away my husband! O Yama, this 
is the boon I ask — may the Hf e of Satyavan 
be restored!*' 

'*So be it," said Yama; and he unloosed 
the cord which he had tied about Satya- 
van's soul ; and vanished. 

When Savitri had returned to the spot 
where her husband's body lay, she sat 
down on the ground and took his head on 
her lap. And presently the colour re- 
turned to his face and he moved and 
opened his eyes, and said: 

' ' I have slept a long time, and the night 
is dark." 

''Yes," replied Savitri; "the sun set 
long ago and all is black except for the 
gleams of a forest fire. Wild beasts, too, 
are prowling in the jungle, and their roar- 
ing makes me tremble." 

*'Tell me, Savitri," asked Satyavan, 
''what happened while I slept? I thought 
I saw a terrible figure standing beside me, 
with a cord in his hand. Was it a dream 
or was it a reality ? ' ' 



20 ^abtttt anb 0ttitx SHomen 

''It is late," answered Savitri; "I will 
tell thee everything to-morrow. Shall we 
go homewards? Or shall I fetch some 
faggots and prepare to spend the night 
here?" 

"We will go home," answered Satyavan. 
''We have already delayed too long. My 
parents will be in distress, fearing that 
some misfortune has overtaken me — my 
blind old father will be wandering about 
in misery seeking for me — O Savitri, let 
us hasten home!" 

"Dear Satyavan," said Savitri, "be- 
lieve me, if I have ever done penance, 
obeyed my parents or loved my husband, 
this night will not be a night of sorrow for 
us, but a night of rejoicing." 

With these words she put Satyavan's 
arm around her, and looking with love into 
his eyes : 

"Come, husband," she said, "let us 
go home." 

Whoever hears the story of Savitri will 
never know misery. 



^abitri 21 



artje %av of tljc asl) i;ree 



23 



Wht Hap of tfje asfi ^Tree 

T^HERE once lived in Brittany two 
"*■ knights, who were near neighbours. 
They were rich and valiant gentlemen, and 
they were both of them married. In due 
course one of the ladies had twin sons, at 
which her husband was very glad, and in 
his joy he sent a messenger to his neighbour 
to say that his wife had had two sons, and 
to ask him to be the godfather of one of 
them. 

The messenger arrived at the castle 
when the other knight and his lady were 
sitting at dinner; he knelt before the dais 
and told his message. The knight thanked 
God for the news, and gave the bearer of it 
a fine horse. At this, his wife, who was 
sitting at table beside her husband, gave a 
laugh. 

"God help us!" she cried. '*How is 
it that our neighbour makes such haste. 



24 ^abtttt anb 0ti)tv 99iomen 

to publish his own dishonour? We all 
know that no woman can have two child- 
ren at one birth without the help of two 
men!" 

Her husband stared at her and then 
spoke sternly. 

''Wife," said he, "this is no way to 
speak; the lady has always been of good 
repute." 

But the words his wife had spoken were 
remembered by those who were present, 
and soon spread all over Brittany. Every- 
one blamed her for her pride and spite; 
but the husband of the other lady did not 
know what to think. He began to suspect 
his wife and then to hate her, and at last 
he shut her up, and ill-treated her, though 
she had not in any way deserved it. 



But before the year was over she was 
avenged. The same lady who had spoken 
so ill of her herself became pregnant ; and 
when her time came she bore twin daugh- 
ters. Her grief was very great, for she 



t!Dfje Hap ot tJje ^siJj tlDree 25 

feared that her husband would never 
believe in her virtue when he learned what 
had happened. She knew that in con- 
demning another she had condemned 
herself, and at last determined to kill one 
of the infants. "For," said she to herself, 
"I had rather do penance for it to God, 
than be dishonoured for it by men." 

Now the lady had to wait on her a damsel 
whom she had long cherished and loved, 
and this damsel was grieved to see her 
mistress in such distress. 

"Lady," she said, "do not be so sad. 
Give me one of the children and I will 
rid you of her so that you shall be spared 
all blame. I will carry her safely away; 
I will take her to the door of a monastery, 
and some good man will no doubt find her 
there, and, if God please, care for her and 
bring her up." 

At this the lady was delighted, and 
promised the damsel a rich reward. They 
wrapped the baby in a piece of fine linen, 
and over this wound a rich silk, embroid- 
ered with wheels, which her husband had 



26 ^abitri anb 0ti)tv Momen 

brought back from Constantinople. Then 
they tied to the child's arm a thick gold 
ring engraved with letters, and set with an 
amethyst. This they did that those who 
found her might know she came of good 
parentage. When all was ready, the 
damsel took the baby, and when night 
came and it was dark she went out of the 
town into a highway leading to the forest. 
She held her way through the forest, and, 
still keeping to the highway, came out into 
the open country. Then, far to the right, 
she heard dogs barking and cocks crowing, 
and turning in that direction she came to a 
beautiful town where stood a rich abbey. 
When she saw the towers, belfry, and walls 
of the Abbey, she laid the baby on the 
ground, knelt down, and prayed to God to 
protect it. Having finished her prayer 
she looked round, and opposite the Abbey 
gate she saw a spreading Ash tree ; it was 
thick and covered with leaves, and the 
stem was divided into four branches. She 
caught up the child in her arms, and laid 
it in the fork of the tree. Then, again 



^fje Hap of tije ^gfj ^ree 27 

commending it to God, she went back, and 
told her mistress all that she had done. 



In that Abbey there was a porter, whose 
duty it was to open the gates and let in 
those who wished to hear mass. On this 
night he got up early, lit the tapers and the 
lantern, rang the bells, and then went to 
the gate and opened it. Immediately he 
saw, hanging from the Ash tree, the silk in 
which the child was wrapped, and going 
towards it to pull it down, found, concealed 
in its folds, the baby. He at once picked 
it up and hurried off with it to his daughter, 
who lived with him, and was nursing her 
own infant. They lit a candle, and made a 
fire, and in unwrapping the child to bathe 
and feed her, found the rich silk, the fine 
linen, and the gold, engraved ring set with 
an amethyst. 

''Daughter," said the old man, ''this 
child is surely of noble birth. I shall take 
it to the abbess, and hear what she has to 
say in the matter." 



28 ^abitri anb 0ti)tv Momtn 



The abbess, on hearing the porter's 
tale, desired to see the baby; and when 
she saw her, declared that she would bring 
her up as her own niece, forbidding the 
porter to tell how he had found her. And 
because of where she had been found, she 
was given the name of Ash. 



So for a long time she remained hidden, 
being brought up in the Abbey close, and 
when she was old enough, the abbess had 
her well taught and instructed in every- 
thing a girl ought to know. She grew up 
beautiful and courteous, frank and kind in 
manner and speech, so that all who saw her 
loved and admired her. 

Now there lived not far away a knight 
called Gurun, who heard of the girl, and 
from hearing of her loved her. On his way 
back from a tournament he went to the 
Abbey, and asked the abbess to bring her 
niece to him. When he saw her he thought 
her so beautiful, so wise and courteous that 
he felt he would be lost for ever if he could 



tIDJje Hap of tfte ^sJji Wvtt 29 

not win her. Yet he was afraid that if the 
abbess guessed what he had in mind she 
would never let him see her niece again. 

At last he thought of a plan. He made 
great gifts of land to the convent, thus 
winning the friendship of the nuns and 
their leave to stay in the Abbey whenever 
he might wish. In this way, he had the 
opportunity of often seeing and talking to 
the girl; and so much he prayed, and so 
much he promised, that at last she gave 
him what he asked for. 

One day he said to her : 

"Dear love, do you indeed love me 
truly?" 

And she answered : 

'*Yes, mylord." 

"But what would you do for love of 
me?" he asked. 

And she answered: "Anything that 
would make you happy; and if you loved 
me no more, but desired some other woman, 
I would make you happy in that too, that 
you might sleep sweetly with her." 

At these words the knight laughed and 



30 ^abttri anb 0^tv Mtmtn 

said: "That you shall never need to do; 
but, since you love me so much, come 
and live with me in my castle. For if 
your aunt were to discover our loves she 
would be angry and separate us ; but if you 
come to me you will be safe and happy — 
I will never fail you." 

She who loved him so much gladly 
agreed to his wish, and went with him to 
his castle. And all that she took with her 
was her fine linen, her embroidered silk, 
and her gold ring; for the abbess had given 
them back to her when she grew up, and 
told her how she had been found by the 
porter in the fork of the Ash tree. 



For a long time they lived together in 
happiness, and there was no one who served 
them who did net love and honour Ash 
for her gentleness and courtesy. At last, 
however, the knights who held fiefs of her 
lord began to complain that he had no heir 
to hold the land after him, and they begged 
him to find some lady of good birth whom 



' 



tE^fje Hap of tjje ^af) ®ree 31 

he might marry, and to put away his 
mistress. They even threatened that if 
he did not agree to their demands they 
would cease to do him fealty, and would 
leave his service; and at that Gurun 
gave way, and asked them whom they 
would have him marry. 

**Not far from here," answered the 
knights, ** there is a rich gentleman who 
has for his heiress an only daughter called 
Hazel. She will bring you a rich dowry, 
and, besides, she is the most beautiful girl 
in the countryside." 

So the marriage was arranged, and all 
the pages and servants of the household 
were much grieved because they must lose 
their dear mistress. Ash. And she, though 
sick with misery, gave no sign of what she 
felt, but continued to serve her lord with 
her accustomed diligence and kindness. 



On the day agreed upon for the wedding 
the knight invited all his friends, and 
among them the Archbishop of Dol, who 



32 ^abtttt anb 0^tt Momen 

was to perform the ceremony. With 
Hazel came her mother; she was much 
afraid that Gurun's mistress would turn 
him against his bride, and she resolved to 
try to persuade him to get rid of her by 
marrying her to one of his servants. 

The wedding feast was celebrated with 
great magnificence and rejoicing. Ash 
received the bride with much honour, and 
served her and the other guests so deftly 
and attentively that everyone admired her. 
She showed no grief nor vexation, and even 
the bride's mother, who watched her 
closely, could not help loving her, and 
thought in her heart: 

**If I had known what this woman was 
like I would not have parted her from her 
lord even for the sake of my own daughter. ' ' 

At night Ash went to the bed-chamber 
to prepare the bridal bed. 

''For," said she to herself, "I know 
best how my dear lord likes to have it." 
She made the bed, and when it was ready, 
she looked for some rich stuff to throw over 
it, but all she could find was an old piece of 



®f)e ILap of tfje Hsii) Wvtt 33 

satin, worn and faded. Grieving at this, 
and longing to serve her lord well — perhaps 
for the last time — she remembered her 
only possession — the rich silk embroidered 
with wheels. Directly she thought of it 
she ran to fetch it, and, returning, spread 
it carefully on the bridal bed. 

Presently the bride's mother came into 
the room to see if all was in order. She 
instantly noticed the rich silk coverlet, 
and, admiring its beauty, went up to look 
at it more closely. Then she saw that 
it was curiously embroidered with wheels, 
and in a moment recognized it as the silk 
in which, many years ago, she had wrapped 
up the baby daughter whom she had 
abandoned. 

The thoughts that came upon her made 
her tremble, and she called Ash, who 
came forward humbly, her hands clasped 
together and her eyes bent on the ground. 

''Fair child," said the lady, "hide no- 
thing from me. Where was this silk found ? 
How did you get it ? Who gave it to you ? 
Tell me — tell me who gave it you ! " 



34 



^abtttt anb 0tbtv 9121 omen 



"Lady," answered Ash, "it was given 
me by the abbess who brought me up. She 
told me to keep it carefully, for this silk 
and a ring were left with me by those who 
sent me to the convent." 

"Oh, may I see the ring?" 

"Certainly, lady; I will bring it.'* 

When the lady saw the ring she knew 
it, as she had known the silk; and when 
she had heard the whole story, she could 
not doubt that Ash was her own daughter. 
Nor did she conceal it for a moment, but 
cried out : 

"You are my child!" and then, from the 
pity she felt, fell back in a faint. 

When she recovered she sent immedi- 
ately for her husband, and no sooner did he 
enter the room than she fell at his feet, 
kissing them, and begging for forgiveness. 
He was much astonished at her behaviour. 

* ' What are you saying ? " he said. * ' How 
can there be such a word between us? 
But if you wish, I pardon you. What is it 
you want?" 

"My lord, now that you have pardoned 



tlTije Hap of tfje Hgjj ^ree 35 

me, I will tell you. Long ago in my un- 
kindness I spoke foolishly of my neighbour, 
and I slandered her because of her twins. 
But I spoke to my own hurt, for after- 
wards I myself had twins. One of them I 
hid in a convent, sending with her the silk 
and the ring you gave me when you first 
spoke to me of love. Now I can hide it no 
longer ; the silk and the ring are found, and 
our daughter is shown to be the lady who 
was so kind and wise and beautiful that 
she was loved by Gurun, who is married to 
her sister." 

''Indeed," said the baron, "it is a great 
happiness to have our child restored to us, 
and to find her before we had doubled the 
injury we have done her. Come to me, 
dear daughter," and he took in his arms 
and embraced the happy Ash. 

Without delay the father told the whole 
story to Gurun and his guests. The Arch- 
bishop advised that nothing further should 
be done that night, and the next day he 
would annul the first marriage and unite 
Gurun and Ash. The father divided his 



36 ^abtttt anb 0ttitv Momen 

possessions in two equal parts between his 
two daughters, and the new wedding was 
celebrated with all possible joy and happi- 
ness. Hazel returned home with her 
parents, and in a short time was married 
to a rich and noble gentleman. 

When this adventure and the end of it 
was known, the Bretons made a song of it, 
called The Lay of the Ash Tree, 



37 



|9an&a anb fier Wxot^tvi 



39 



|9anfea anb fjer J^rotfierg 

A MOTHER had nine dearly loved sons, 
^^ and the tenth child, the dearest of 
all, was a daughter as beautiful as the stars. 
The nine brothers loved their sister with a 
great love, and refused for her many great 
nobles who asked her in marriage. At 
last, however, Fate came, and Yanka loved 
a lord who lived nine days' journey from 
her dwelling-place. And though the broth- 
ers were grieved to part with her, they 
all promised that if she married him they 
would come and visit her every month of 
every year. 

So the marriage was decided, and when 
the hour came there arrived thirty-six 
guests riding black horses and bringing 
for Yanka a beautiful white horse. 

In the middle of the festivities, Hussein, 
the youngest of the brothers, turned pale 
with terror, for on the white horse, where 



40 ^abittt anb 0ti)tx Momen 

the others saw only a harness of silver and 
velvet, he saw a woman sitting. She was 
dressed in white and wore a long black veil. 
Her eyes were icy and her face haggard. 
Hussein did not know why he had turned 
pale at the sight of her, for he thought she 
might be a sister of the bridegroom. She 
dismounted from the horse and mingled 
with the crowd. 

When the wedding festivities were over, 
the brothers led their sister forward, kissed 
her on the forehead, and lifted her on to the 
velvet saddle of the beautiful white horse. 
The thirty-six guests all embraced the 
brothers, and the black- veiled woman em- 
braced them too. The wedding party set 
off and soon disappeared in the mountains. 

For long the nine brothers gazed after 
Yanka's shining crown, and when they 
could see it no longer they returned to their 
lonely house. They returned, and sudden- 
ly each one of them felt an agonizing pain 
on his forehead in the place where the pale 
woman had pressed her cold lips. For the 
woman was Mourtia, the Plague, and in 



|9anfea anb fiet JBrotjjersf 41 



nine days the nine brothers died of her 
kiss. The mother buried them by herself 
— she buried them all — and over the head 
of each son she put a stone. Then she sat 
down among the nine tombs and wept so 
long and so bitterly that she became blind. 



When Yanka arrived at her lord's 
white house she was happy. Then she 
thought of her brothers and was less happy ; 
but one thought consoled her; they had 
promised that every month of every year 
they would visit her, and she waited, and 
every evening went out into the white road 
to see if one of her brothers was coming. 
She waited thus for nine years, and her 
husband's sisters laughed at her and said, 
' ' Surely thou art an outcast to thy brothers ; 
they despise thee too much to visit thee." 
And Yanka sighed and wondered what sin 
she had committed that her brothers should 
slight her so, and her grief deepened, and 
there was nothing to console her. 



42 ^abtttt anb (J^tfjet Momen 

One night Yanka was outside her house 
watching the road as she had watched it 
in vain for nine years. Suddenly a black- 
bird near her began to sing — a blackbird 
announcing the arrival of a guest. 

"Oh, blackbird," cried Yanka, "dear 
blackbird, have you come to bring me good 
news?" 

She lifted her eyes, and riding down the 
road she saw her yoimgest brother, Hussein. 
She rushed towards him and threw herself 
into his arms. She covered his cheeks with 
kisses, and sobbing, half with bitterness 
and half with joy, she exclaimed, "Oh, 
Hussein, when I was married, you and my 
brothers promised you would visit me every 
month of every year. Nine long years 
have passed, and till this day not one of 
you has come." For a moment she was 
silent, and then she went on, "My brother, 
you are deadly pale; why are you so pale, 
as if you had been long dead?" 

And Hussein answered, "Hush, my 
sister. My eight brothers have all mar- 
ried, and each one of them needed a dwell- 



ganfea anb ijer JBrotfteriJ 43 

ing-place. Much toil was needed to build 
those white dwelling-places, and it is that 
which has made me look so pale." 

For three days Hussein remained with 
her, and Yanka prepared herself for a 
journey: she got ready many beautiful 
presents for her brothers and their wives 
— silk shirts for her brothers, rings and 
bracelets for their wives. 

And Hussein tried to dissuade her from 
her intentions. "Stay here, dear sister," 
he said; ''do not come with me, but wait 
until our brothers come to you." But she 
would not listen to her brother, and when 
he started on his journey she mounted his 
horse behind him and went too. 

They rode so swiftly that the nine 
days' journey passed like a thought. 

As they were going through a little wood, 
Yanka heard the nightingale singing a 
strange song. **See," it sang — **see, a 
dead brother riding with a living sister!" 

And she said to her brother, *'Why does 
the nightingale sing so sad a song?" 

And he answered, "It is a bird that 



44 ^abtttt anb 0ti)tv Womtn 

sings one day with tears and the next with 
laughter." 

As they approached their mother's 
house Yanka wondered to see the fields 
deserted and the gardens uncultivated. 

"Why are my brothers not working 
on the land?" she said to Hussein. 

And he answered, * ' Because the summer 
is over and the winter is coming." 

"Why does nobody come to greet me?" 

"When you are at home my mother 
will tell you." 

And as they approached nearer to their 
mother's house, they came to a tall white 
church which stood beside it. 

Then Hussein said to his sister, "Let 
us stop a moment; when my last brother 
was married I lost a golden ring here in 
the churchyard. Let me go and see if 
I can find it." He left her and returned 
to his grave, and ghded back into the black 
earth. 

For a long time Yanka waited for him, 
but as he did not return she went on to 
her mother's house and knocked at the 



ganfea anb fjer Jirotfjersf 45 

door. ' ' Open the door, ' ' she cried ; ' ' make 
haste and open the door for me." 

And her mother answered from within, 
''Accursed Mourtia, Plague of God, is 
it you at last? Why did you take my 
nine sons first and make their old mother 
wait nine long years?" 

And Yanka answered, ' * Dearest mother, 
open the door ; it is not the Plague of God 
who stands outside, but your daughter 
Yanka." 

At these words the mother opened the 
door: she gave a loud cry, flung both her 
arms round Yanka, and, clinging close 
together, mother and daughter sank to 
the ground, dead. 



^aint 3na 



47 



49 



TTHE noble Iria was sitting at her win- 
dow embroidering a cushion, with a 
golden needle and a silver thimble, when a 
knight passed by on his horse. He knocked 
at the door and asked for shelter for the 
night, but to Iria's great grief her father 
refused. 

'*My lord father," she said, "the night 
is coming; there is no other shelter on the 
road. Do not let it be said of us that at 
the fall of night we closed our door against 
someone who asked for our hospitality." 
She begged him, she implored him; for a 
long time he resisted her entreaties, but in 
the end he gave in. When at last Iria had 
won his consent she ran down the stairs, 
opened the door, and let in the knight, who 
seemed well satisfied. She led him to the 
hearth and he sat down; she brought him 
water and he washed his hands; she 



50 



^abttti anb <2^tf)er SHomen 



brought him a napkin and he dried them. 
Although he did not speak to her she felt 
that he was looking at her; she raised her 
eyes towards his, but he had fixed his 
beautiful eyes on the ground. She brought 
him supper and he ate heartily. She 
prepared the bed and he laid himself down. 
Then she said to him, ' ' Good-night, ' ' but he 
made no reply, and she wondered in her 
heart if ever such discourtesy had been 
seen before. 

She went to bed herself and slept heavily, 
but the knight did not sleep. Half the 
night passed, and Iria was awakened by 
the sound of someone in her room. Sud- 
denly she felt a hand on her mouth: half- 
fainting she was picked up, carried down 
the stairs, and placed on a horse's back. 
The horse bounded off; it galloped and 
galloped as fast as the wind. Iria did not 
struggle or speak; she did not open her 
eyes ; she wept. 

When they had galloped for seven 
leagues the knight stopped and lifted her 
off the horse. He set her on the grass and 



^aint Sria 51 



implored her in passionate tones for her 
love, but Iria only answered with tears. 

Then the knight said to her gently, 
"What is your name, lady? What is 
your name, my soul?" 

** When I was in my own country I was 
the noble Iria, but now in these mountains 
I am Iria the Unhappy." 

When he heard these words he was seized 
with fury. *'If that is how you answer 
my love and my prayers, you shall be 
killed. My sword shall pierce your hard 
heart ; you shall be buried at the foot of a 
pine tree, and your body covered over 
with green boughs." 



At the end of seven long years the knight 
was passing that same place, and he saw 
a beautiful chapel built of white marble, 
in front of which was sitting a shepherd. 
*'Tell me, shepherd of the mountain, oh, 
little shepherd of my soul, what is this 
beautiful chapel so finely built of white 
marble?" 



52 ^abtttt anb 0tt^tv 91 omen 

* * It is the Chapel of Saint Iria, the noble 
Iria, who was cruelly killed here by a 
wicked knight; the Chapel rose of itself 
on the very spot without the aid of any 
man." 

When the knight heard that, he flung 
himself on his knees. *'0h, Saint Iria 
of my soul, my first love, forgive me the 
dreadful death which this sword gave you. 
I will become your pilgrim and go on a long 
pilgrimage." 

*'0h, Knight, rise up. How can I 
forgive you for the cruel death that your 
sword gave me? It was a sin that only 
Heaven can forgive. Dress yourself in 
blue, which is the colour of Heaven, and 
go forth on a long pilgrimage ; when Heaven 
pardons you, I will pardon you." 

The knight dressed himself in blue and 
set off on a long pilgrimage. For many 
years he wandered over the land, but found 
no peace of mind; for neither Heaven nor 
Saint Iria would forgive him. At last, in 
his wanderings, he came to seven hills, and 
on the seven hills there stood a town. 



^amt Sria 53 



"What is the name of this town?" he 
asked ; and they told him it was Rome, the 
Holy City. He went nearer, and, behold ! 
the gate of the town opened, and there 
came walking towards him Saint Iria, the 
beautiful lady he had assassinated far 
away in Portugal. Her white dress was 
stained by the crimson blood which still 
flowed from the wound he had made in her 
heart; her cheeks were pale and her eyes 
without sight. But she smiled, and when 
she came near to him she held out her hand 
and spoke gently. "Return home in 
peace," she said; "Heaven has forgiven 
you, and I forgive you too." 



55 



Va6siHii6si tfft Wiiit 



57 



pOURTEOUS Prince Vladimir, Tsar of 
Kieff, summoned to his palace all his 
princes, nobles, and warriors, and made a 
great feast for them. Amongst them was 
young Stavros Godinovich. 

He mounted the steps of the palace, 
crossed himself, bowed low to all present, 
and especially to Prince Vladimir and his 
daughter Zabava, and took his place at the 
royal table. 

Evening came, and all the guests, merry 
with wine, began to boast of their prowess, 
their skill, or their great possessions. 

Stavros alone sat silent, neither eating 
nor drinking, hanging his head and mak- 
ing no boast. Courteous Prince Vladimir 
noticed him and, going up to him, said, 
"Why do you sit so downcast, Stavros 
Godinovich? You do not drink the green 
wine: you do not eat the white swan; you 



58 ^atiitri anli 0ti)tx Momtn 

sit silent and make no boast. Have you 
done no great deeds, fought in no desper- 
ate battles, have you no fine palace, no 
hoards of merchandise, not even a good 
old mother or pretty wife to enable you 
to make a boast with the others?" 

Then Stavros raised his head and replied 
to the Tsar, "Yes, Prince Vladimir, I can 
boast if need be. This wretched town of 
Kieff is, after all, a mere hamlet. The 
court of my palace would easily contain 
the whole of Kieff. My palace itself 
covers seven acres; the walls of white oak 
are hung with beaver skins and the ceiHngs 
with black sables. The floors are of silver, 
the fastenings and hinges of steel. But of 
these things I do not boast. 

'*I have thirty young shoemakers to 
provide me with boots of green morocco 
embroidered with silver. I wear them 
one day, and then they are sold in the 
market-place to great princes and noble- 
men. I have thirty young tailors to pro- 
vide me with purple cloaks lined with silk. 
I wear them one day, and then they are 



^asi^ilisi^a tlje Wii^t 59 

sold in the market-place to emperors and 
tsars. But of these things I do not 
boast. 

* * I have a golden-coated mare ; half her 
foals are black as jet and half are white as 
milk. The best of them I ride on myself 
and the worst I sell to mighty warriors for 
great sums of money, so that my treasure 
is never exhausted. But of these things 
I do not boast. 

'*0f one thing, however, I will boast, 
and that is my wife, Vassilissa the Wise. 
She is the daughter of a peasant ; she bears 
a crescent moon upon her forehead; and 
were she to come to Kieff town she could 
deceive all the nobles and princes and drive 
you, courteous Prince Vladimir, out of 
your senses!" 

At these words all the assembly was 
struck dumb, and Vladimir, enraged be- 
yond measure, cried out, "Do you venture 
to speak so to me? Insolent wretch, you 
shall have iron fetters on your hands and 
feet, and for six years you shall lie in a 
dungeon forty fathoms deep with oats and 



6o ^abitri anb 0U)tv 2Homen 

water for your food — unless, indeed, this 
Vassilissa can deceive all my nobles and 
princes, drive me out of my wits, and de- 
liver you from your captivity." 

So Stavros was flung into a dungeon 
below the earth, and Vladimir sent mes- 
sengers to bring Vassilissa to Kieff , and to 
seal up the doors and gates of his palace. 
But before the messengers could start, a 
servant of Stavros galloped off to the 
palace of Godinovich and told his wife all 
that had happened at Kieff. Vassilissa 
made no outcry or lamentation. She sat 
down on her folding-chair, fixed her eyes 
on the ground, and for three hours reflected 
profoundly. 

''Gold and silver will not ransom Stav- 
ros," she said to herself, ''nor can he be 
rescued by force of arms. The only thing 
to save him is woman's cunning." 

Thereupon she summoned her maids and 
gave her orders. ** Quick!" she cried. 
"Cut off my long locks, dress me in men's 
clothes, and saddle me a horse." 

When this was done she summoned her 



"^ajfgilijfjfa tJje Wiit 6i 

bodyguard of forty handsome young men 
and set off on the road to Kieff . They had 
not gone half-way when they met Vladi- 
mir's messenger, and both of them leapt 
from their horses, saluted, and took each 
other by the hand. 

"Where are you going, prince?" asked 
the messenger. 

"I am an ambassador from Tsar Ka- 
line," answered Vassilissa, ''and I am 
journeying to Kieff to demand a twelve 
years' tribute and the hand of his daughter 
Zabava in marriage. And you, prince, 
where are you going?" 

* ' To seal up the door of Stavros Godino- 
vich's palace, and to bring back his wife 
to Kieff." 

''That you need not do," said Vassilissa, 
"for I myself have just come from the 
palace. It is shut up and no one is there — 
they told me that Stavros was at Kieff and 
his wife on a long journey." 

On hearing this the messenger turned 
back, and, riding swiftly back to Kieff, 
warned courteous Prince Vladimir of the 



62 ^abitri anb 0^tx Momen 

approach of a terrible ambassador from 
Tsar Kaline. Vassilissa followed more 
slowly. Outside the town of Kieff she 
ordered the young men of her bodyguard 
to set up a white paviHon, and told them 
to wait for her. All alone she rode into 
Kieff between the scarlet poles Prince 
Vladimir had erected to welcome the 
terrible ambassador, leapt her horse over 
the palace walls and ditches, and entered 
the courtyard. There she dismounted, 
thrust her spear straight down between the 
paving-stones, flung her silk bridle over its 
golden spike, and bowed low to all present, 
especially to Prince Vladimir and his 
daughter Zabava. 

''Welcome, terrible ambassador," said 
courteous Prince Vladimir. "What is 
your name, and why have you come?" 

''My name is Vassily," answered Vas- 
silissa "and I am come to demand from 
you a twelve years' tribute and the hand 
of your daughter in marriage." 

"I will pay the tribute, Vassily, but 
before I give you my daughter in marriage 



'^asisiiUsiia tije Misit 63 

I will ask her what she has to say concern- 
ing the matter." 

So Vladimir led Zabava to one side and 
asked her what she thought of Vassily for a 
husband. 

"A husband, my father!" exclaimed 
Zabava. * ' This terrible ambassador would 
make a strange husband! Can you not 
see that it is no man, but a woman? Can 
you not see that he walks as a duck swims 
and speaks as a tit pipes ? Can you not see 
that when he sits down he presses his knees 
together? Can you not see how white and 
delicate his hands are, and that the mark of 
rings still remains on them?" 

At this, courteous Prince Vladimir was 
perplexed, for he did not dare to refuse 
his daughter to the terrible ambassador, 
and yet did not wish to make a fool of him- 
self by marrying her to a woman. At last 
he thought of a test by which to make sure 
of the truth. 

"Vassily," said he, '*I invite you to 
come with me to the bath that you may 
refresh yourself after your journey." 



64 ^abttti anb 0tt)tv iHomen 

''Gladly," replied Vassilissa; *'I wish 
for nothing better." 

And while courteous Prince Vladimir 
was taking off his clothes and preparing 
himself she hurried to the bath, wet her 
head, and came out just as he was going 
in. 

* ' Why were you in such a hurry ? ' ' asked 
Vladimir. "Why did not you wait for 
me?" 

"You are at home and at leisure," re- 
plied Vassilissa, "but I am a traveller 
and have no time for delays. I am come 
to woo your daughter. Give her to me." 

Then courteous Prince Vladimir thought 
of another test. 

"Will you not rest awhile on this 
couch ?" he said to the terrible ambassador ; 
for he thought to himself, " If he is a man 
there will be a deep hollow left on the 
couch under his shoulders; but if it is a 
woman the deepest hollow will be under 
her hips." 

Now Vassilissa understood the wile of 
courteous Prince Vladimir, so she lay on 



'^asmilisifia tfte Mint 65 

the couch with her head at the foot, and 
when the Tsar returned to examine the 
hollows he was deceived. 

But Zabava still begged her father not 
to marry her to the terrible ambassador. 
"If you do," she protested, ''you will be 
mocked at by all your nobles and by the 
people of Kieff." 

So courteous Prince Vladimir thought 
of another test. 

''Vassily," said he, ''I invite you to a 
shooting match with my young men." 

"I accept gladly," replied Vassilissa, 
and she sent for her bow and arrows, left 
behind in the pavilion outside the walls. 
And such was the weight of the bow that 
three men held one end and three the other, 
and ten dragged along the quiver contain- 
ing the arrows. 

Then courteous Prince Vladimir chose 
out twelve of his best archers; and the 
mark was an ancient oak, far away, beyond 
the walls of the city. At a signal the 
twelve archers shot. Their twelve arrows 
hit the trunk of the tree, and it quivered 



66 ^abitri anb 0ti)tv 21® omen 

as though in a storm. Then VassiHssa 
took an arrow, aimed at the oak, and loosed 
the bow. The cord whistled like a whirl- 
wind, the dart flew, and struck the oak 
with such force that it was shivered from 
top to bottom as if by a thunderbolt. 

But Zabava still implored her father 
not to marry her to the terrible ambassador. 
"Believe me, believe me," she cried, "you 
will regret it if you do." 

So courteous Prince Vladimir thought 
of another test. 

"Vassily," said he, "will you wrestle 
with my young men?" 

"Gladly," replied VassiHssa, and step- 
ping into the court where the wrestlers 
were, she seized two in one hand and three 
in the other, and cracked their skulls 
together like eggshells. 

But Zabava still maintained that the 
terrible ambassador was a woman; and 
at this courteous Prince Vladimir spat with 
rage. 

"Oh, foolish princess," he shouted, 
"your hair is long but your wits are short! 



"^a^jfilisfflia tfje Misit 67 

How can this barbarian, stronger than five 
wrestlers, be a woman?" 

And he ordered the wedding-feast to 
be prepared. 

On the third day of the wedding-feast, 
when the time approached for going to the 
church to be married, the terrible ambassa- 
dor grew sad, silent, and drooped his head. 

"Why are you not merry?" asked 
courteous Prince Vladimir. 

**I do not know," answered Vassilissa; 
"perhaps at this very moment my aged 
father or my dear mother is dying. Have 
you no minstrels or harpers who might 
divert my thoughts?" 

But though all the best minstrels and 
harpers of Kieff were summoned, the ter- 
rible ambassador was still sad. 

"Is not Stavros Godinovich among 
your guests, courteous Prince Vladimir? 
They tell me he is the best player on the 
harp — why have I not heard him ? " 

At that Vladimir was perplexed; for he 
had sworn to keep Stavros in prison for 
six years, and yet he dared not anger the 



68 ^abitri anb 0tt^tt 31® omen 

terrible ambassador. At last he sent his 
servants to bring Stavros from the dun- 
geon to the banquet hall. And when 
Stavros came he took his harp and strung 
it; one string was from Kieff, one from 
Byzance, and one from far Jerusalem. He 
plucked the harp and sang, and his songs 
were strange and outlandish, from over the 
blue sea. 

Then said Vassilissa, ''This harp player 
pleases me. Give him to me, courteous 
Prince Vladimir, and I will take him to 
my tent." 

Again Vladimir hesitated, but he did 
not venture to refuse anything to the ter- 
rible ambassador, so he bowed his head 
and gave consent. 

And when Vassilissa had brought Stav- 
ros to the white pavilion outside the wall, 
she turned and took him by the hands and 
said: 

''Stavros Godinovich, dost thou not 
know me?" 

And he looked long in her eyes and 
cried : 



^as(s(ilis;s(a tjje Wii^t 69 

''Ah, my beloved wife, thou art Vassil- 
issa the Wise!" 

Then, when they had embraced and 
rejoiced over his escape, Stavros said, 
"Let us mount our horses and fly quickly 
from the town of Kieff and the power of 
Vladimir." 

"No," said Vassilissa, "do not let us 
steal away as if we were ashamed. lyct 
us rather return to courteous Prince 
Vladimir." 

So Vassilissa put on her woman's clothes, 
and the husband and wife rode back to the 
Tsar's palace. When they reached it, 
Vassilissa crossed herself, bowed low to all 
present, especially to Prince Vladimir and 
his daughter Zabava, and said : 

"Behold again, O Tsar, the terrible 
ambassador you betrothed to your daugh- 
ter Zabava. Shall we continue the 
wedding-feast?" 

"Prince," said Stavros, "have I made 
good my boast that if my wife, Vassilissa 
the Wise, came to Kieff she could deceive 
all the nobles and princes, and drive you, 



70 ^abitri anb 0tt^tx Momtn 

courteous Prince Vladimir, out of your 
senses?" 

For a time Vladimir stood amazed and 
speechless. At last he found his voice and 
answered : 

''You have indeed made good your 
boast, Stavros Godinovich, and your wife 
is truly called Vassilissa the Wise. Your 
liberty is restored; go safely home from 
Kieff, and henceforth trade in any part 
of my kingdom freely and without tax." 



71 



BFanet anb tIDamltti 



73 



Janet anb i;amUn 

IN the north there lived a Baron who 
had a fine castle and many broad lands ; 
but of all his possessions the dearest was 
his young daughter, Janet. When she was 
still a child he gave her, as a proof of his 
love, a beautiful wood called Carter haugh, 
which lay not far from his castle. But 
though it was a fine wood with splendid 
trees growing in it, and beautiful flowers, it 
was a dangerous place to walk in. There 
were many fairy rings in the grass, and 
strange elfin knights had been seen wan- 
dering among the elms, and at last the 
maids of the castle were forbidden to 
go there for fear lest though they went 
maids, they should never return maids 
again. 

One summer evening Janet was sitting 
in her bower, sewing a silken seam, and 
the room was hot, and she was tired of 



74 ^abtttt anb <2^tiiet Mmitn 

sewing. Suddenly she thought of the 
green cool leaves of Caterrhaugh, and in 
spite of what she had been told she re- 
solved to go there. She threw her needle 
to the ground and pushed the seam off her 
knee; she braided her yellow hair, pulled 
up her green kirtle so that it should not 
hinder her, and unseen by anyone ran off 
to Carterhaugh. Just on the outskirts of 
the wood was a rose-tree. Janet stepped 
up to it and picked a rose; and a young 
knight with nine silver bells hanging round 
his waist started up and put his hand on 
her arm. 

' ' Lady, ' ' said he, * ' let that alone. What 
makes you pull the rose from the tree? 
What makes you come to Carterhaugh 
without my leave?" 

"Well may I come to Carterhaugh," she 
answered, ''and well may I pluck the rose 
without your leave, for Carterhaugh and 
all it contains is mine — my father gave 
it to me." 

The young knight made no reply; he 
took her by her white hand and her green 



STanet anb tIDamlm 75 

sleeve and, without asking for her consent, 
led her to the fairy ground. 



Janet braided her yellow hair and 
fastened her green kirtle so that it should 
not hinder her, and as fast as she could go 
ran off to her father's hall. But when 
she got there she looked so strange and 
pale that they thought something terrible 
had happened to her, or that she was suffer- 
ing from some illness. 

The summer passed and the autumn 
came, and Janet was changed indeed. 
One day four-and-twenty fair ladies were 
playing ball near the castle when Janet 
came out. Once she had been the flower 
of them all ; but now she did not join them 
in their game. One day four-and-twenty 
fair ladies were playing chess in the castle 
hall when Janet came down the stairs. 
Once she had been the loveliest of them 
all, but now her cheeks were as green as 
glass. One day as she walked near the 
castle wall a grey-haired knight leant 



76 ^abitri anb 0ttitx Momtn 

across it and said to her, ''Alas, fair Janet, 
it is we who will be blamed on your ac- 
count — not one of us will escape suspicion." 

"Hold your tongue, you old-faced 
knight," cried Janet angrily. "May you 
die an ill death! Father my child on 
whom I may, be sure I shall never father 
him on you! Oh, if my love were an 
earthly knight I would not change him 
for any lord alive — but he is no earthly 
man, only an elfin knight with nine silver 
bells hanging round his waist." 

Her brother, who was passing by, heard 
her words. He hated his sister for the 
shame she was bringing on her family, and 
he spoke, meaning to do her harm : 

"If your love is no earthly man, but 
an elfin knight, he can never wed you. 
Take my advice; go down to Carter haugh 
and there you will find a little grey herb 
that will rid you of your child." 



Janet braided her yellow hair and fast- 
ened her green kirtle so that it should not 



SFanet anb tIDamlin ^^ 

hinder her, and as fast as she could go ran 
to Carterhaugh. All the roses had fallen 
and the trees were bare. She looked care- 
fully for the little grey herb, and when she 
found it she picked two leaves. Immed- 
iately Tamlin started up and put his hand 
on her arm. 

*'Lady," said he, ''let that alone. 
How dare you pull a leaf from that herb ? 
How dare you think to harm the child that 
is mine as well as yours ? ' ' 

"Oh, tell me, tell me, Tamlin," she 
cried, "can you never become an earthly 
man? Were you always an elfin knight? 
Tell me, for the sake of Him who died on a 
tree, were you never in a holy chapel? 
Were you never baptized into Christen- 
dom?" 

"I'll tell you the truth, Janet. I'll tell 
you all my tale, and I'll not lie to you in a 
single word. 

"I was not always an elfin knight; an 
earthly lord got me, an earthly lady bore 
me as they did you, and I have been in a 
holy chapel and baptized into Christendom. 



78 ^abitri anb 0ti}tv 815lomen 

"It happened on a certain day that I 
went out hunting, and as I rode along, a 
wind came out of the north; the wind was 
sharp and cold; a dead sleep came over me, 
and I fell from my horse; then the Queen 
of the Fairies seized me and carried me off 
to live with her in yon green hill. 

"It is pleasant enough to live in fairy- 
land making merry with elves and goblins, 
sleeping soft and eating and drinking of 
the best. It is pleasant enough; but at 
the end of every seven years they must pay 
a tithe to Hell, and much I fear that this 
year I shall be their tithe. There is, 
however, yet one chance for me. To-night 
is Hallowe'en and the fairy folk go riding; 
I shall be with them and, Janet, then you 
can win me if you will." 

"Indeed, Tamlin," answered she, "I 
will win you if I can — but how shall I 
recognize you among a pack of unknown 
knights riding past me in the dark?" 

"You must come down to Miles' Cross," 
said Tamlin, "between midnight and one 
o'clock ; you must fill your hands with holy 



STanet anb Hamlin 79 

water, and you must turn round to all the 
points of the compass. The first company 
that passes by, say nothing and let them 
go; the next company that passes by, say 
nothing and let them go ; the third company 
that passes by will have me among them. 
Some of them will be on black horses and 
some on brown, but I shall be on a milk- 
white steed, my right hand will be gloved, 
my left hand will be bare, and on my head 
I shall wear a crown with a golden star on 
it. These are the tokens by which you 
will know me. Then you must take my 
horse by the head, pull the bridle from my 
hands, fling your arms around me, and 
hold me tight whatever happens." 



Janet braided her yellow hair and fast- 
ened her green kirtle so that it should not 
hinder her, and as fast as she could go ran 
on to Miles' Cross. Long she waited 
there in the darkness ; and when at the dead 
hour of night she heard the bridles ring 
she was as glad as she had ever been in her 



8o ^abitri anb 0t^tx Homen 

life. The companies of fairy riders went 
by, and when the third company appeared 
she knew her lover would be among them. 
First came knights on black horses, and 
then came knights on brown horses, but 
when Janet saw one on a milk-white steed 
she caught the horse by the head, snatched 
away the bridle, and pulled the rider down. 
There was a wild tumult among the fairy 
folk. An eldritch cry arose among them, 
"True Tamlin is away!" and to and fro 
they darted to discover where he was hid- 
ing. At last they found him with Janet 
holding him fast, and immediately began 
their spells to make her let him go. 

They turned him first into a snake, so 
smooth and slippery that it almost slid 
from her arms; but she gripped and held 
him fast — he was her friend and com- 
panion. 

They turned him next into a wild deer 
that bruised her with his hard hoofs and 
struggled frantically to escape; but she 
gripped and held him fast — he was the 
father of her child. 



STanet anb tKamU'n 8i 

They turned him next into a hot iron, 
and the closer she clasped him in her arms 
the more fiercely her tender flesh was burnt 
and tortured; but she gripped and held 
him fast — he was her heart's desire. 

They turned him at last into a mother 
naked man; and when Janet saw his face 
she knew him for Tamlin; she threw her 
mantle over him, and thus she won her 
love. 

The Queen of the Fairies was standing 
in a bush of broom, and she was filled with 
anger at the loss of Tamlin. 

**She that has won young Tamlin," she 
cried, ''has got a stately groom — she's 
taking away the finest knight of all my 
company. 

"Adieu, Tamlin! but if I had known 
yesterday what I know to-night I would 
have taken out thy heart of flesh and put 
in a heart of stone. 

"Adieu, Tamlin! but if I had known 
thou didst love an earthly lady I would 
have taken out thy two grey eyes and put 
in eyes of wood. 



82 



^abttrt anb Cotter Momen 



"Adieu, Tamlin ! but if I had known that 
an earthly lady would win you I would 
have paid my tithe to Hell seven times over 
rather than let you escape." 



83 



Hibusifiia tfie ^roptietesifii 



85 



VV/HEN Crocus, King of Bohemia, had 
reigned for thirty-nine years, and 
had Hved eighty-six, he died, and all his 
people were in great distress. They rushed 
to their dwellings, like bees to their hive, 
lamenting, tearing their faces with their 
nails, and shrieking aloud, ''Alas, and woe, 
our King, art thou dead? Who then will 
rule us now? We shall find no one in the 
whole land!" 

His children wailed and beat their 
breasts, and called out : 

"O Merote, lead him in the path of 
light!" 

'*0 Radama, judge him according to 
his justness, and let not Tesanos bring 
him to destruction!" and there was a great 
noise of weeping from old and young until 
the third day. 

On the fourth day, with cries and shouts 



86 



^atttttt anil <2^tfiet iHomen 



that echoed through the hills and woods, 
they carried him to Ctiniowes, and there 
buried him beside King Czech, and near 
his wife, Niua. They put many gifts in 
the grave, rolled a great stone over it, 
built a fire, and there burnt his clothes, 
sacrificing them to the gods. 



Crocus had left behind three beautiful 
and learned daughters. The eldest was 
called Kascha ; she knew as much as Medea 
of Colchis of the virtues and powers of all 
herbs and plants, and her skill in medicine 
was so great that she could cure men of 
their wounds and sickness by her words 
alone. The second daughter was called 
Tetka ; she was a priestess, and she taught 
the people how to serve and make sacrifices 
to the gods of the water, the woods, and the 
moimtains. The youngest was Libussa; 
she was eminent among women for her 
readiness in counsel, wise in speech, chaste, 
honourable, learned, friendly to all and 
loved by all, the ornament and glory of her 



lltbus(fi(a tge $topfiete£(£f 87 



sex. But because no one is blessed in 
everything, this woman of so much re- 
nown — oh, hard fate of humanity! — was 
a prophetess. 

A short time after the death of Crocus 
the three daughters were together in the 
castle of Pf ary, and all the elders assembled 
there and told them they desired a ruler. 
Then the daughters of King Crocus said : 

''Whom do you wish to have for your 
ruler?" 

And the elders replied : 

''You who are the heiresses shall cast 
lots between you to decide which of you 
shall have the sovereignty." 

Now, no one knows in what way the lot 
was cast, but, in the end, the one to be 
chosen was the youngest, Libussa; and 
she was accepted as ruler by all the people, 
and she ruled her subjects peacefully and 
judged them justly. 



At that time there lived on the borders 
of the Otava a man named Klen, whose 



88 ^abtttt anb (2^ti)et Momtn 

father had come long ago to these rich 
lands with King Czech, crossing three 
rivers on the way. When Klen died his 
two sons, Chroudoch and Striaglav, had 
a furious quarrel as to who should inherit 
his lands, and so great was the clamour and 
uproar that they made, and so violent their 
hatred, that the waters of the Otava were 
troubled. The river boiled between its 
banks, whirled its golden sands away, 
flooded the green mountain-tops, and 
terrified all the birds and beasts who lived 
on its brink. A swallow flew all the way 
to Wychegrad, where Libussa lived in 
the ancient gilded palace of Crocus, and 
perched on her broad window-sill, complain- 
ing and lamenting. 

"Swallow," said Libussa, "what is the 
cause of your complaints and laments ? ' ' 

"Why should I not complain and la- 
ment," replied the swallow, "when Chrou- 
doch and Striaglav, the sons of Klen, whose 
father came long ago to these rich lands 
with King Czech, crossing three rivers on 
the way, are quarrelling so furiously as to 



who shall inherit his lands? They are 
tearing out each other's beards and pulling 
each other's noses, and the river Otava is 
boiling in its banks and flooding the green 
mountain-tops." 

So the princess sent messengers to the 
White Hill of the young oaks, to the Giant 
mountains where Trut killed the cruel 
serpent, to Radoran near the source of 
Otava, to fair Sazava whose waters carry 
silver; she sent to summon all the nobles, 
warriors, and peasants, and she sent to sum- 
mon Chroudoch and Striaglav, who were 
disputing over their father's inheritance. 



When the appointed day arrived the 
nobles, warriors, and peasants assembled 
at Wychegrad and entered the court of 
judgment. At the upper end of the hall 
was a high golden throne covered with a 
woven stuff; at each end stood a virgin, 
learned in divine matters, one holding the 
tables of the law, the other the sword of 
justice, and on the throne lay Libussa 



90 ^abttrt anb <2^tfiet Momtn 

clothed all in white. In front of them was 
burning the flame that tests, and at their 
feet lay the water that purifies. 

Libussa gave the sign, and the two 
brothers, Chroudoch and Striaglav, came 
forward, still quarrelling furiously. They 
rushed up to the golden throne where the 
princess lay, and, shouting and waving 
their arms, adjured her to settle the ques- 
tion according to the laws of justice. 

"I shall settle it,'* replied Libussa, 
''according to the laws of the immortal 
gods. These laws declare that a father's 
land should be divided between his sons 
in equal parts or held in common. My 
decision is that Chroudoch and Striaglav, 
the sons of Klen, whose father came long 
ago to these rich lands with King Czech, 
crossing three rivers on the way, shall 
agree together about their heritage, and 
shall possess it in common. Nobles, war- 
riors, and peasants, confirm my decree if 
you think it just, and if not give another 
decision to settle the dispute yourselves." 

The nobles, warriors, and peasants 



mhnsisia tiie ^topietes^fi^ 91 

bowed before Libussa and turned to each 
other to discuss the sentence; they agreed 
that it was a just sentence and in accord- 
ance with the laws of the immortal gods, 
and Lutabor of Dobraslav stepped out 
from among them and said : 

' * Glorious princess of the golden throne, 
we have considered the sentence and ap- 
prove it." 

At that Chroudoch, the eldest of the 
brothers, leapt forward. He was quite 
possessed with rage: all his limbs trembled; 
he hit his head with his fist three or four 
times, struck his staff on the ground, spat 
in his beard, and exclaimed: 

'*Woe to the nest which a serpent has 
found ! Woe to the men who are governed 
by a woman! Is it not certain that a 
woman knows little enough when she is 
standing or even sitting, how much less 
then when she is lying in bed ? For it is well 
known that women have long hair but 
short understanding. It is for men to rule 
over men. It is for the eldest to have the 
inheritance." 



92 ^atjitri anb 0^tt llomen 

At these shameful words Libussa, hiding 
her grief in her heart, and determined not 
to reason with him or to refute his insults, 
smiled and answered quietly: 

"Yes, it is as you say. I am a woman 
and I live like a woman, and now you 
despise me because I rule you with kind- 
ness and not with fear. For it seems that 
where there is no fear there is no respect. 
So it was in the days when the doves de- 
spised the kite they had chosen to rule 
them and would have instead a hawk, who 
put to death the innocent with the guilty, 
and even to this day feeds on their flesh. 
Return to your dwellings; and when you 
assemble again to-morrow you shall know 
who is to be your new lord; see if his iron 
judgments please you better than mine." 



Libussa summoned her two sisters, who 
were as angry as she was at the insulting 
words of Chroudoch, for they also were 
wise women, and had devoted themselves 
to the study of strange lore. What coim- 



ILihnsisia tfje l^top^tttisi 93 

sel these three sisters held together that 
night or what secret spells they used in their 
magic art has never been told ; but certain it 
is that by daybreak next morning the name 
of the future ruler was revealed to Libussa 
and the place where he would be found. 

When all the people, nobles, warriors, 
and peasants were assembled, Libussa 
entered the court and lay down on the 
golden throne, across which was spread 
a richly woven stuff; and she ordered the 
servants to bring in two chairs and place 
one on each side of her, for the use of her 
sisters. Then, when all was ready, she 
waved her hand that the people might be 
silent, opened her mouth, and spoke. 

"Oh, you famous Bohemian nation, how 
is it come about that you reject the better 
for the worse and refuse to live in freedom ? 
Oh, stiff necked people, why do you fly from 
life to death, and ask for an unbearable 
yoke to be placed on your shoulders ? For 
when you have chosen a prince — and that 
you may do easily — you and all that you 
possess will be in his power. When he 



94 ^abtttt anb 0^tv 921 omen 

appears your knees will tremble, your 
mouth will dry up, and you will hardly be 
able to say, *Yes, it is true, lord.' Your 
sons and your daughters will have to bend 
low before him, and your best possessions — 
in the field, the vineyard, or the meadow, 
in the villages or dwelling-places, or hidden 
in rooms and chests, or even buried under- 
ground — if they happen to please him he 
will seize them for his own use. Now, what 
do you think? Shall I tell you his name 
and the place where he is to be found?" 

Then all together, and as if with one 
mouth, they began to cry and shout : 

** Give us a prince! Tell us the name of 
our prince!" 

When at last the turmoil began to die 
down she raised her hand and, pointing 
to the north, spoke : 

"See there, behind those mountains 
runs the river Bila; not far from the river 
is a village called Stadiz, near which there 
is a field. This field is a hundred and 
twenty paces long and a hundred and 
twenty paces wide; in it a man is ploughing 



mhnisia tiie $topiietes(s( 95 

whose name is Przemysl. Go and bring 
him here, and he shall be your prince and 
my husband, and his posterity shall rule 
over these lands for all eternity." 

So the people chose out thirty from 
amongst them to go at once to search for 
their new prince. These envoys, anxious 
to lose no time, went to Libussa and begged 
her to tell them exactly where to find 
Przemysl and what he looked like so that 
they should make no mistakes. 

"Ask no further," she replied, "but take 
my white horse. Let him go freely where 
he will and do you follow him— he will lead 
you to your prince. And you will know 
your prince by these signs — he ploughs 
with birds, he guides them with a tree, and 
he eats off an iron table." 

When Libussa had said these words the 
envoys bowed down to the ground and 
immediately set off on their search. 



When the envoys following Libussa's 
white horse had crossed the Middle Moun- 



96 ^abttrt anb 0t\)tv Momen 

tains they began to approach a village, and 
wondered if this was the place of which 
they had been told. Seeing a boy run out 
of one of the houses they stopped him 
and asked whether this village was called 
Stadiz, and whether there lived in it a 
man called Przemysl? 

**Yes," answered the boy, "this is 
Stadiz, and Przemysl is there, ploughing 
in the field." 

So the envoys continued their path, 
still following the white horse. He led 
them to the field the boy had pointed out, 
and went up to a man in the middle of it, 
ploughing with two piebald oxen. He fell 
on his knees in front of this man and 
neighed loud and long. 

''Hail, ploughman!" said the envoys. 
* * Learn that we have been sent by Libussa, 
Sovereign of Bohemia, and by all the people 
to summon a ploughman named Przemysl 
to return with us to become our prince. If, 
then, that is your name unyoke your oxen, 
mount this horse, and let us set off." 

At these words the man stopped in the 



middle of the furrow he had been plough- 
ing. Without answering the envoys he 
unyoked the oxen, and striking them on the 
flanks with his goad he called out : 

"Return to whence you came." 

Instantly the oxen leapt into the air, 
and as they did so wings unfolded from 
their sides and they flew into the clouds and 
disappeared. 

Then he struck his goad into the ground, 
whereupon it grew upwards, pushing out 
three branches, which were at once cov- 
ered with leaves and hazel-nuts. And he 
turned the plough over, and, taking out of 
his pocket a piece of rye bread and a lump 
of milk cheese, he sat down on the handle 
of the plough and laid the bread and cheese 
on the ploughshare. 

The envoys, who had been watching 
these wonders with amazement, turned to 
each other and exclaimed, "Thus, then, 
is the prophecy of Libussa fulfilled — the 
oxen have wings, the goad bears leaves and 
nuts, the ploughshare is a table!" and 
bowing down to the ground before Przemysl 



98 ^abitri anb #tfier Momen 

they saluted him again as prince of 
Bohemia. 

"I am wilHng," repHed Przemysl, "to 
return with you and to become your prince ; 
but your lady Libussa ought not to have 
sent for me in such haste. For if I had 
had time to finish ploughing this field, in all 
future time your land would have had 
bread enough, but now, since I have not 
been able to complete my work, there will 
often be hunger and famine over all the 
land." 

So saying, he mounted Libussa 's white 
horse, and, surrounded by the thirty en- 
voys, rode back to Bohemia. When he 
reached it he married Libussa and became 
prince of the land, and in this way were 
fulfilled all the prophecies which the lady 
Libussa had made. 



99 



SFoufeafiamen's; Visiter 



lOI 



Joufeafiamen's lister 

IN a birch wood far to the north there 
Hved a man and his wife, his son 
Joukahainen and his daughter Aino. Aino 
was a young and beautiful maiden ; Jouka- 
hainen was also young, but he was already 
a celebrated singer and a powerful magician. 
One day when he was feasting with his 
friends in a neighbouring village he heard 
the rumour that in southern countries there 
was a singer called Vainamoinen who was 
more skilled than himself in singing, and 
who had greater knowledge and a sweeter 
voice. At this report Joukahainen was 
jealous and angry ; he returned home to his 
parents, and informed them that he in- 
tended to travel to Kalevala, where Vaina- 
moinen lived, and to challenge him to a 
contest in magic and singing. 

Joukahainen 's father and mother both 
disapproved of this, scheme and tried to 



102 ^abtttt anil 0ti)tx 923omen 



dissuade him from the project. "He will 
sing against you," they said; "he will over- 
come you with magic songs, and by his 
witchcraft will sink you over the eyes in a 
snow-drift and freeze your hands and feet 
till you are deprived of motion." 

To these protests the youthful Jouka- 
hainen repHed, "Good is my father's 
counsel ; better is my mother's counsel ; best 
of all is my own opinion. When I enter 
into rivalry with others I bewitch those 
who try to bewitch me and deceive those 
who wish to deceive me. I shall sing 
until the best singer becomes the worst, and 
I shall transform him so that for ever after 
he shall carry with him a bow of marble on 
his shoulder, a visor of flint upon his fore- 
head, and a stony weight upon his heart." 

Then, paying no further attention to 
his parents' advice, Joukahainen turned 
away. He led out his horse with flaming 
nostrils and fiery hoofs, harnessed him to 
his golden sledge, picked up his pearl 
enamelled whip, leapt up into his seat, 
and galloped off. 



HToufeajiainen'jf ^isittt 103 

For three days, with a sound of thunder, 
he drove south, and at last reached the 
land of Kalevala. It so happened that the 
old and steadfast Vainamoinen was also 
driving his sledge peacefully along the road, 
and presently the singers met. The youth- 
ful Joukahainen, rushing impetuously for- 
ward, made no attempt to stop his horses, 
but dashed on so that the sledges collided, 
the shafts were wedged together, the reins 
entangled, and the collars jammed against 
each other. 

Then old Vainamoinen spoke. *'Who 
are you," he said, "who drive so blindly 
and recklessly? The horses' collars are 
broken and so are the runners. You have 
quite ruined my golden sledge." 

Joukahainen answered, "I am youthful 
Joukahainen. But tell me who you are, 
vile wretch, and from what miserable stock 
you issue." 

"If you are the youthful Joukahainen," 
replied Vainamoinen, "you ought to make 
way for me, for you are much younger than 
I am." 



104 



^abtttt anil (Dt^et IE omen 



''Age and youth have nothing to do 
with the matter," answered Joukahainen. 
"Let him whose knowledge is the greatest 
and whose singing is the sweetest keep 
the roadway and the other make way for 
him. If it is true you are old Vainamoinen, 
the ancient singer, let us begin our songs 
that one of us may teach the other and 
prove himself the wiser and more power- 
ful." 

'*0h, golden youth," replied the old and 
steadfast Vainamoinen, ''what can I ac- 
complish as a singer who have lived all my 
life in these lonely woods on the edge of the 
wild moorlands ? I have heard the cuckoo 
sing, but what else do I know? But apart 
from that, let me now hear your songs, and 
the extent of your wisdom." 

And the youthful Joukahainen answered, 
"I know one thing and another: I know 
them with great certainty. I know clearly 
that every roof must have a chimney, and 
every fire a hearthstone; I know that the 
seal has a merry life, and that the walrus 
feeds on salmon and perch; whitings live 



3foufeaf)ainen*£f Visiter 105 

in smooth water and trout in rough water; 
the perch swims in great depth in the 
autumn and comes to the surface in 
summer. 

"If this wisdom is not sufficient, there 
are many other things I know of. In the 
north they plough with reindeer, in the 
south with mares, and in Lapland with 
elks. 

*'The hill of Pisa is crowned with a 
forest, the rocks of Horna are black with 
fir-trees; beneath the celestial vault there 
are three wild cataracts, three wide lakes, 
and three high mountains." 

Then the old and steadfast Vainamoinen 
spoke. "These are the tales of children 
and the wisdom of women — they are not 
fitted for grown men, bearded and wedded. 
Speak now of the origin of life, of philo- 
sophy, and the eternal truths." 

And the youthful Joukahainen answered, 
"I know the origin of the tit — the tit is a 
bird. I know the origin of the viper — the 
viper is a snake. The perch is a fish, iron 
is hard, mud is bitter, boiling water is 



io6 ^abtttt anb (fitter Momen 

malicious, and fire is painful. I know that 
water springs from rocks, that fire falls 
from heaven, that rust is found on iron 
and copper in the hills. I know that 
marshes were the first habitations of men, 
willows the first trees, pine roots the first 
houses, and hollow stones the first kettles." 

Then the old and steadfast Vainamoinen 
spoke. ''Have you anything further to 
say, or is this the end of your nonsense?'' 

And the youthful Joukahainen answered, 
' * I remember one or two more little things. 
I remember how I hollowed out the depths 
of the sea, sank the deep abysses and dug 
out the caves for the fishes, heaped the 
mountains up and piled the rocks around 
them. I remember how I and six other 
great heroes were present when the earth 
was created and the heavens unrolled. I 
helped to fix the pillars of the sky, to hang 
the rainbow in the clouds, to place the 
moon in the ethereal vault, to start the 
sun on his career, and scatter stars all over 
heaven." 

Then said Vainamoinen, "You are 



Jouliajamen's^ Visiter 107 

merely piling lie upon lie. You at least 
were never present when the ocean was 
hollowed and the earth heaped up. No 
one had ever seen you or even heard of 
you when the earth was created, the 
heavens were unrolled, and the heavenly 
bodies set in their places." 

And Joukahainen replied, * ' If my learn- 
ing is not great enough my sword shall 
make up for it! O aged Vainamoinen, O 
broad-mouthed minstrel, come now, meas- 
ure your sword against mine, and test the 
sharpness of my steel." 

''Truly," replied Vainamoinen, **I have 
little reason to fear your sword or your 
singing, your strength or your wisdom. 
But, apart from that, I will not measure 
my sword against you, poor, conceited 
boy!" 

Then the youthful Joukahainen twisted 
his mouth and shook his head and its black 
locks. "As for him who fears to fight 
with me," he replied, "and dares not take 
his sword, I will change his nose into a 
snout and sing him into a pig. Such heroes 



io8 ^abttrt anb iBt^tt Momm 

I will throw hither and thither, and pitch 
them grunting on to a corner of the dunghill. 
Then Vainamoinen was seized with in- 
dignation and broke into a great rage. 
Suddenly he began to sing ; and his singing 
was not childish tales and woman's wis- 
dom, but worthy of gods and heroes. He 
sang; and the lakes roared, the earth 
shook, the copper mountains tottered, the 
thickest rocks split asunder, and the stones 
on the shore were shivered. He sang; 
and the youthful Joukahainen was over- 
whelmed by his enchantments. He sang, 
his horse into a stone by a marsh, his golden 
sledge to a shrub, his pearl enamelled whip 
to a reed ; he sang his cap to a cloud in the 
sky, his gloves to water-lilies on a lake, his 
blue coat to a mist, his belt to a train of 
stars. He sang the youthful Joukahainen 
himself down and down into the earth, 
sang him to the waist in the swamp — and 
then to the hips, and then to the armpits. 
Joukahainen tried to lift one foot, but it 
was motionless; he tried the other, but it 
was shod with stone. 



HToufeatamen'jf Visiter 109 



Then the youthful Joukahainen knew 
and understood at last who it was with 
whom he had struggled; he saw what the 
end of his journey was, and knew that he 
had been defeated in the contest by the 
old and steadfast Vainamoinen. And he 
was overwhelmed with despair; and in his 
anguish he said, *'0 wise and ancient 
Vainamoinen, call back your secret words 
and unsing your magic songs ; deliver me 
from this dreadful place, and I will pay 
you a rich ransom." 

''What ransom do you offer me," said 
Vainamoinen, **to release you from your 
prison?" 

And Joukahainen answered, "I have 
two fine bows, light, yet strong and sure. 
Take which of them you please and release 
me." 

"No," said Vainamoinen, "I do not 
want your wretched bows. I have plenty 
of bows myself — all the walls are hung with 
them — ^bows which go out hunting by 
themselves and need no one to hold 
them." 



no ^abitri mt #tjjer IKomen 

And he sang the youthful Joukahainen 
deeper still into the swamp. 

And Joukahainen said, "I have two 
fine boats : one is swift, the other deep and 
broad. Take which of them you please 
and release me." 

'*No," said Vainamoinen, '*I do not 
want your boats — I will not have them. 
I have plenty of boats — I have them in 
every bay — boats that face any tempest, 
boats that sail against the wind." 

And he sang the youthful Joukahainen 
deeper still into the swamp. 

And Joukahainen said, ' ' I will give you 
a golden helmet and a cap full of silver — 
all the gold and all the silver my father 
won in battle and brought back from his 
forays." 

"No," said Vainamoinen, ''I do not 
want your riches. I myself have plenty 
of wealth — gold as ancient as the moon, 
silver as old as the sun." 

And he sang the youthful Joukahainen 
deeper still into the swamp. 

Then Joukahainen felt the extremity 



3foukai)aintn*ii Visiter iii 

of his misfortune. He sank chin deep in 
the swamp, his beard dragged in the mud, 
his mouth sank in the moss, and his teeth 
hit the tree roots. 

*'0 Vainamoinen," he cried, "O wise 
and ancient singer ! Call back your sacred 
words, unsing your magic songs, and I will 
give you my sister Aino, my mother's 
daughter, to sweep your floor, wash your 
clothes, and clean your vessels; she shall 
weave you a cloak of gold and bake you 
biscuits of honey." 

Then the old and steadfast Vainamoinen 
felt great happiness coming into his heart ; 
and the hope of having Aino for his bride 
in his declining years softened his anger. 
He sat down on the stone of joy and began 
to sing. Three times he sang, reversing 
his enchantments and dissolving the spell 
he had woven; and the youthful Jouka- 
hainen lifted his chin from the mud, dis- 
entangled his beard, led his horse from the 
stone, drew his sledge from the shrubs and 
his whip from the reeds. He mounted the 
sledge and, with gloomy thoughts filling 



112 ^abtttt anb <2^t!ier Momen 

his breast, drove northwards to his 
home. 

Hurriedly and noisily he drove, and in 
his dejection he knocked the sledge care- 
lessly against the door of the house and 
broke the shafts. His mother was alarmed 
at the tumult, and his father came out to 
ask what had happened. 

''The sledge has been broken by your 
reckless conduct," he said. ''Did you do 
this on purpose? Why do you drive so 
strangely?" 

Then the youthful Joukahainen burst 
into tears. He hung his head, pushed 
his cap on one side; his lips were swollen 
and stiff and his nose drooped down over 
his mouth. At this his mother came to 
him and spoke to him gently. "Why do 
you weep?" she said. "O fruit of my 
youth, why are you so troubled?" 

"Mother," said Joukahainen, "I have 
good cause for weeping, and I shall be 
troubled all my life. Amazing, terrible 
things have happened. The magician has 
overcome me, and I have promised my 



BTotiliajiamen's; ^ifliter 113 

sister Aino to him to be his wife and the 
support of his old age." 

And the mother clapped her hands and 
exclaimed joyfully, '*Do not grieve, dear 
son; there is no cause for sorrow. This 
has long been my wish ; and at last I shall 
see Vainamoinen seated amongst us as a 
kinsman, and shall have for son-in-law 
this famous singer." 



So Joukahainen's mother rejoiced; but 
when Aino heard of what had been ar- 
ranged her tears began to flow, and for 
three days she wept most sadly. Then 
her mother said to her : 

"Why do you weep, my little Aino? 
You have found a splendid lover, and will 
go to live in a fine house where you may 
enjoy yourself looking out of the window, 
or sit chattering on the bench outside." 

'*0 mother," replied Aino, '*I have 
good cause for weeping. I mourn for my 
beautiful hair, so soft, glossy, and curled, 
which I must hide and cover with a cap 



114 ^abtttt anb 0t\}tt Momtn 

though I am young and have not finished 
growing. I mourn also for the sweetness 
of the sun, the charms of the moon, and all 
the glory of the heavens, for I must leave 
them here in my brother's workroom and 
my father's window." 

"Dry your tears, foolish child,'* replied 
her mother. "You have no cause for so 
much sorrow. God's sun does not shine 
only on your brother's workroom and your 
father's window; it shines on many other 
lands. Not only on your father's fields 
or your brother's clearings are flowers and 
fruits to be found; strawberries grow in 
other woods and roses bloom in other 
gardens." 

But in spite of her mother's words Aino 
was still sorrowful, for she did not at all 
wish to be married or to leave her home. 
At last her mother said to her : 

**Do not grieve so, dear fruit of my 
youth, but listen to my advice. For one 
year you shall eat fresh butter, the next 
year pork, and the third year cakes of 
cream; this will make you plump and 



3fo«feajiainen'fl( ^inttt 115 

beautiful, so that no one shall equal you 
in charm. And that you may be even 
more lovely, go to the storehouse in the 
wood on the mountain; go into the inner 
room and open the painted lid of the finest 
coffer. There you will find a golden girdle, 
a silver crown, and a blue dress of the 
softest texture such that no man has seen 
their like. 

''When I was a young girl I was wander- 
ing one day in the wood gathering rasp- 
berries when I came to a thick grove of 
trees beside a lake. Looking through the 
leaves I saw the daughters of the moon and 
the daughters of the sun; and they were 
spinning and weaving. I approached them 
and said gently, 'Give me some of your 
silver, O daughters of the moon, give me 
some of your gold, O daughters of the sun, 
for I am a poor girl, and have no jewels or 
rich clothes with which to adorn myself.' 
And the goddesses smiled and gave me of 
their gold and silver. Radiant with joy, 
like a flower, I put on the rich ornaments ; 
for three days I wore them, and then I put 



ii6 ^abtttt anb <2^tf)et 929omen 

them away in the painted coffer in the 
storehouse. There they have remained 
ever since, waiting till the time when my 
daughter should need them for marriage. 
Go then, dear Aino, and dress yourself in 
these beautiful clothes; and return, the 
joy of your family, as fair as a flower on the 
path, or a raspberry on the hillside.'* 

So Aino set out for the storehouse in the 
wood on the mountain, and as she went 
she was full of sad thoughts. 

''Alas," said she to herself, "it would 
have been better for me if I had never 
been born, or if I had died after six days 
and vanished on the seventh. Then I 
should not have needed much — only a 
little shroud and a small corner of earth; 
my mother would have wept little, my 
father less, and my brother not at all. But 
now I am promised to an old man, to 
support his tottering footsteps, to put a 
cloak round him in winter, to keep him 
warm by the fire, and to be the joy of his 
declining years." 

When Aino reached the storehouse she 



SToufeaJjainen^sf Visiter 117 

entered the inner room, opened the painted 
coffer, and there she found all sorts of 
beautiful clothes and jewels such that no 
man had seen their like. She put on a blue 
robe of the finest texture, set a silver crown 
on her head, and a golden girdle round her 
waist. On her breast she put a golden 
cross strung on a beaded necklace, twisted 
scarlet ribbons in her hair, and on her feet 
placed silken stockings and delicate, purple 
shoes. Then in her fine array she went 
out into the wood and for a while forgot her 
grief in the beauty of her ornaments. The 
sun shone on her golden girdle, the wind 
tossed her blue skirt to and fro, and when 
she looked at her purple shoes she began 
to dance under the trees. While she was 
dancing the alder bushes were thrust aside, 
and through the thicket came the old and 
steadfast Vainamoinen. 

*'0 maiden," he exclaimed, ''dance for 
me and no one else! For me braid your 
hair with scarlet ribbons, for me crown 
yourself with silver, for me and me alone 
hang on your breast a golden cross." 



ii8 ^abtttt anil <2^tfier Momtn 

Then Aino stopped her dancing and 
answered him, * * I was not dancing for you 
nor for anyone else! It was not for you 
that I braided my hair and crowned my- 
self; it was not for you I hung a golden 
cross on my breast! I care nothing for 
the spinning and weaving of the daughters 
of Heaven ! I care nothing for soft clothes 
and rich food! I would rather dress in 
homespun and eat rye bread, and stay at 
home with my father and mother!" 

Then she tore the cross from her neck, 
pulled off her crown and girdle, and threw 
them on the ground. And, weeping and 
lamenting, she ran hastily away from the 
place where Vainamoinen stood. On she 
ran till night came, and still she hurried 
forward. In the darkness she did not see 
where she was going, and did not perceive 
that her path led down to the sea. All her 
thoughts were bent on escaping from Vain- 
amoinen. Blindly she ran, and the waters 
of the sea engulfed her. In vain she 
struggled; the deep waves rolled over her 
head, and in the blackness of the night and 



2foukaf)atnen'£( ibisittv 



119 



the insatiable waters of the ocean the 
young and beautiful Aino was drowned. 



When Aino's mother heard of her child's 
death, her grief was very great. 

"Oh, mothers!" she cried. "Oh, poor 
mothers, never while you live on earth 
force your daughters to marry those whom 
they do not love, as I did with my beauti- 
ful Aino." 

Thus she wept and lamented; and one 
tear after another fell from her blue eyes 
to her sad cheeks. 

Thus she wept and lamented; and one 
tear after another fell from her sad cheeks 
to her heaving bosom. 

Thus she wept and lamented; and one 
tear after another fell from her heaving 
bosom to the edge of her dress. 

Thus she wept and lamented; and one 
tear after another fell from the edge of her 
dress to the ground where she was standing. 

As they flowed they swelled till they 
became the source of three mighty rivers; 



120 ^atiitri anb d^tfjer 3151 omen 

from each river rushed three cataracts; 
in each cataract stood three rocks; on the 
summit of each rock was a golden moun- 
tain ; on each mountain sprang three birch 
trees ; in each tree perched three cuckoos. 
All the cuckoos sang together. 
The first sang, ' ' Beloved ! B eloved ! ' ' 
The second sang, "Lover! Lover!" 
The third sang, "Consolation!" 
He who sang, "Beloved! Beloved!" 
sang three months long to the young and 
loveless maiden drowned in the deep ocean. 
He who sang, "Lover! Lover!" sang 
six months long to the unhappy lover 
who has lost her he loved. 

He who sang, "Consolation!" sang all 
his life long to the sad mother who will 
weep and mourn for ever. 



121 



^i)c Jiamiioo=Cutter's ^torp 



123 



3Cf)e iBamlioo=Cutter's; ^torp 

'TT'HERE once lived an old man, a 
bamboo-cutter, who cut bamboo 
reeds at the riverside and made them into 
many objects that men need. One day 
he had been toiling with his hatchet for 
several hours ; the sun was hot, and he was 
overcome by fatigue. He sat down by the 
river to rest, and wished in vain that he had 
some wine or fruit to refresh himself with, 
for he was too poor to have more than one 
meal a day, and that was rice. As he sat thus 
watching the stream he suddenly noticed 
floating in the water a beautiful pink peach. 
He stretched out his arm to pluck it from 
the water, but in spite of all his efforts he 
could not reach it. Determined not to lose 
the delicious fruit if he could by any means 
obtain it, he fixed his eyes upon it and 
repeated the following lines : 



124 ^abitri anb 0ti)tt Momen 

" Distant water is bitter, 
Near water is sweet; 
Come out of the distant water 
Into the near water." 

To his surprise and delight the peach 
seemed to hear and obey his words; it 
floated towards him, and he was soon able 
to take it from the stream. He immedi- 
ately prepared to eat it, and pulling out 
his knife cut it in half, when to his amaze- 
ment he discovered ^hat in the place where 
the stone should have been there was a 
tiny child, beautifully shaped, and giving 
forth a dazzling white light. 

Enchanted at his discovery he ran home 
immediately, carrying the little creature 
as carefully as he could, and entrusted 
her to his wife to feed and tend. Lovely 
as she was, she was extremely frail and 
tender, and at first she had to be placed in 
a basket to keep her safe. But she grew 
surprisingly fast, and in three months — 
wonderful to relate! — she was as tall and 
well developed as a girl of sixteen. Nor 
could the whole world show her equal; 



^f)t 5iamlioo-Cutter'£{ ^torp 125 

for there was no gloom in any corner of the 
house which her brightness did not dispel, 
and no angry word was ever spoken in it 
while she was there. Her beauty in- 
creased every day, and the old bamboo- 
cutter called her Kaguya, the Precious 
Slender Bamboo of the Field of Autumn. 



Now, it was impossible for such won- 
ders to be concealed from the knowledge 
of men ; and whether it was from the report 
of her companions, or from the spying of 
some inquisitive wretch, or merely by her 
own radiance which no veils could alto- 
gether hide, by some means the fame of her 
beauty spread far over the land. Many 
men, both of high and low degree, were so 
carried away by their longing to gaze upon 
the charms of which they had heard so 
much that they surrounded the bamboo- 
cutter's house from dawn to dawn, and 
disturbed his sleep by their sighs and 
serenades. All, however, was in vain. 
None of them succeeded in catching one 



126 ibabitri ant 0ti)ex iKomen 

glimpse of Kaguya; and at last nearly all 
of them, despairing of ever doing so, gave 
up hope, departed, and were seen no more. 
Five suitors only remained; their names 
were Prince Ishzukuri, Prince Kuramochi, 
the Sadaijin Dainogon, the Chiunagon 
Otomo, and Morotada, Lord of Iso. 
These great nobles could not tear them- 
selves from the fence outside the house. 
Through the snows and ice of winter, 
through the droughts and thunderstorms 
of summer, they remained faithfully at 
their post, sometimes attempting to solace 
their grief by sending to the Lady Kaguya 
supplications and stanzas, to which they 
received no reply. 

At last, in despair, they sent for the 
bamboo-cutter, and, placing the palms 
of their hands together, they bowed low 
before him. 

"Sir," they said, "your daughter takes 
no heed to our suit; yet we pray you to 
bestow her upon one of our number, 
for a daughter must submit to a father's 
wishes." 



^{je Samboo-Cutter's; §s>toxp 127 

''True," answered the bamboo-cutter; 
"but this maiden is not my daughter, 
and I cannot force her to obey my will." 

''But," cried the suitors, "surely the 
maiden cannot remain un wedded for ever ! 
Surely you must give her to someone, and 
who could be a more suitable husband 
than one of us?" 

These words troubled the old man, and 
at last he agreed to consider the matter. 
He presented himself before Kaguya, and 
asked her to listen to him. 

"What could my father say," replied 
the maiden, "to which I would not listen 
obediently?" 

The old man was pleased at these 
words, and continued : 

"My dear daughter, you know how 
much I love you and how carefully I 
cherish you; but consider; I am an old 
man, more than seventy years old. To- 
day I may die, or to-morrow; and when I 
am dead who will there be to protect you? 
It is therefore proper for you to think of 
marriage." 



128 ^abtttt anti 0ti)tv Momen 

But Kaguya hung her head, and for 
the first time since she left the peach her 
brightness was dimmed and tears came 
into her eyes. 

Yet the bamboo-cutter continued, 
speaking gently but persistently : 

"Here are five noble lords who have 
wooed you winter and summer. Agree 
at least to let them have speech with you, 
each in turn." 

*' Father," said Kaguya, having at last 
come to a decision, ** nothing could be more 
terrible than to be married to an un- 
worthy husband; allow me, then, to test 
the five lords in order to find out which is 
the most heroic, for him alone will I wed. 
And these are the tests they are to undergo. 
Let Prince Ishzukuri bring me from Ten- 
jiku the Buddha's begging-bowl ; let Prince 
Kuramochi pick me a branch of a tree 
whose roots are silver and whose trunk is 
gold, and whose fruit is pure white jade; 
let the Dianogon obtain for me a fire-proof 
fur robe; let the Chiunagon bring me the 
rainbow-hued jewel from the dragon's- 



^fte ?8amboo-Cutter*« ^torp 



129 



head, and let the Lord of Iso find the cowry 
shell brought to this land by the swallow 
from the sea plain." 

At this speech the old man shook his 
head, for the tasks seemed to him very 
terrible, and almost impossible; but at 
last he rose, and, going out to the suitors, 
told them in sad tones his daughter's 
decision. And the five lords looked at 
each other; and in silence turned away 
each to his own home, for they under- 
stood from the tasks she had assigned 
them that the Lady Kaguya was deter- 
mined not to marry any one of them. 



The story of Kaguya 's beauty and of 
her rejecting the five noble suitors came 
in due time to the knowledge of the Em- 
peror. And he, like so many others, was 
seized with a longing to see her, and a 
determination to have her for a wife. 
Accordingly he sent a court lady whose 
name was Fusaga, with instructions to 
find out the dwelling of the bamboo- 



130 ^abitri anb 0ti)tv iSiomen 

cutter and to bring Kaguya to the Royal 
Palace. 

In due time Fusaga found the bamboo- 
cutter's house and told the old man of 
the Emperor's wish. The bamboo-cutter 
bowed to the ground, and, retiring to the 
inner room where Kaguya was sitting, 
informed her of Fusaga 's visit and of the 
message she brought. What was his 
amazement when she replied firmly : 

* * It is impossible for me to see this lady 
or to accompany her to the Royal Palace. 
I am in no way beautiful enough to appear 
at court." 

"Daughter," cried the old man, "is 
this your only answer to the Imperial 
embassy? I am much afraid that this 
reply will not find favour for us." 

"Father," replied Kaguya, "this is all 
I can say, except that the Emperor shows 
little wisdom in sending one of his ladies 
on such an errand." 

With trembling footsteps the bamboo- 
cutter returned to Fusaga and told her 
that Kaguya refused to see her, much 



tIDfje S3amboo=Cutter*« ^torp 131 

more to accompany her to the Emperor. 
Fusaga, astonished at his submission to 
his daughter's recalcitrance, and offended 
at the insult to herself, left him without 
argument, consoling herself with the 
thought that the Emperor would know 
sufficiently well how to treat such audacity. 
Sure enough, no sooner had she made 
her report, than the order was issued for 
the bamboo-cutter to be summoned 
immediately. 

"Old man," said the Emperor, on his 
appearance, "we have ordered your daugh- 
ter to attend our court. She refused to 
admit the Lady Fusaga, our emissary, and 
you yourself seem to have acquiesced in 
this impertinent disobedience. Have you 
any excuse to offer for your daughter's 
insolence and your own folly?" 

"Your Majesty," replied the bamboo- 
cutter, "my excuses are few and weak. 
Kaguya is not my daughter, so that I am 
unable to lay my commands on her; she 
has, moreover, declared that she will suffer 
death rather than leave my house." 



132 ^abttrt anb 0tt)tt iHomen 

*'If she is not your daughter," said the 
Emperor, ''how came she in the first place 
to enter your house? And if you have, as 
I suppose, bred her up from infancy, have 
you not in return a father's authority 
over her?" 

"She came into my house in a peach," 
answered the old man, "and as I conceive 
her to be not altogether an ordinary being 
— for her ways and moods are of other 
fashion than the fashion of this world — 
I dare not exert over her the authority 
of a father, but allow her to take her own 
path." 

At this explanation the Emperor was 
more than ever consumed by a longing to 
see with his own eyes this mysterious 
maiden, and at last he spoke thus: 

"Do not you live in the bamboo woods 
on the hills overlooking the city? I will 
order a Royal Hunt in that very region, 
and you and I can perhaps together con- 
trive that I should obtain, as it were 
by chance, a sight of your marvellous 
Kaguya." 



tlDjie Samboo-Cutter's; ^torp 133 

The bamboo-cutter was delighted by 
this expedient, and readily undertook to 
help in carrying it out. 

A few days later the Royal Hunt was 
ordered; the Emperor led his hounds into 
the thick of the bamboo woods, and soon 
discovered the old man's house. He 
dismounted and approached, and im- 
mediately became aware of a soft light 
irradiating all the dwelling-place. Swiftly 
entering and running into the inner cham- 
ber he found Kaguya, who, seeing a 
stranger, rose to fly. The Emperor seized 
her by the sleeve, whereupon she covered 
her face with the other hand; but not be- 
fore he had caught sight of its incomparable 
beauty. 

"O lovely lady," he cried, "why do you 
resist me? Come — I am your Emperor" 
— and he would have led her forth. 

*'No, sir," she answered, **I am no 
subject of your Majesty; do not then 
attempt to force me." 

'*It is in vain that you hang back," he 
answered; ''mine you are — must be." 



134 ^abttrt anb 0^tx ^omen 

So saying he turned to summon the ser- 
vants who bore the palace Utter. Im- 
mediately Kaguya's sleeve seemed to slip 
from his hand, and as he gazed the lady 
dissolved in thin air and vanished. The 
Emperor was for a moment transfixed; 
then, tmder standing that the bamboo- 
cutter had spoken the truth, and that she 
was not altogether an ordinary being, he 
spoke again : 

"Lady, do not fear me. I will not 
trouble you any more with my words and 
wishes. I will leave your house and you 
shall remain behind; only I beseech you, 
before I go for ever, resume your glorious 
form." 

With these words he turned slowly and 
reluctantly to the door; and as he did so 
the radiant figure of Kaguya gradually 
reappeared, filling the house with light and 
smiling farewell to the disappointed 
Emperor. 

Some time passed after these events, 
and one spring the bamboo-cutter noticed 



tIDfje Jiamboo-Cutter'si ^torp 135 

that the Lady Kaguya seemed absorbed 
in watching the moon, and that as she 
watched a gentle melancholy settled upon 
her. At last her grief became so over- 
powering that the bamboo-cutter feared 
for her health, and one evening, seeing the 
tears stream down her cheeks, he went to 
her and said : 

"Daughter, what is it that grieves you 
so ? Do you need anything for your happi- 
ness? And why do you gaze continually 
on the moon?" 

And she answered, **I am sad because 
as I gaze on the moon I reflect on all the 
misery of this world." 

And as the time of the waning of the 
moon came her grief seemed to diminish. 
But next month, when the new moon 
appeared, she began to sigh and moan, 
and as the moon waxed her grief increased. 

At last the bamboo-cutter went to her 
again and said : 

**Alas, dearest daughter, what is your 
grief? Why, why gaze so sadly at the 
waxing moon?" 



136 ^abtttt anil <2^ti)ec Qlomen 

And again she answered, "I have no 
grief, except my grief for the misery of 
the world." 

And again as the moon waned her com- 
plaints and laments waned, and again as 
the moon waxed they were renewed and 
multiplied. 

Then the bamboo-cutter was greatly 
distressed, and besought Kaguya to refrain 
from gazing at the moon or to tell him 
honestly what caused her anguish. 

**Dear father," she answered, "I cannot 
tell you yet why I must gaze at the moon 
and why I must weep as I gaze. Some 
day — alas! too soon — you will see and 
understand." 

With this the old man had to be con- 
tent, but he resolved that while the moon 
was in the sky he would keep careful 
watch that no harm might befall his dear 
Kaguya through any neglect of his. 

The moon was still waxing night by 
night; at last the night of the full moon 
came and the old man climbed to the roof 
of the house to watch. And it seemed 



^fje |Bamlioo-C«tter'£f ^torp 137 

to him that the light was brighter than 
that of the full moon, and that moment 
by moment it increased and became more 
dazzling and wonderful. So he looked up 
to the sky to see where the strange light 
came from ; and to his amazement he saw, 
floating down towards the earth, a silvery 
cloud. On the cloud were standing a 
company of celestial beings dressed in 
shining clothes, and in the midst of them 
was a canopied car hung with fine, soft 
curtains. The cloud stopped a little dis- 
tance from the roof of the house, and from 
the canopied car stepped One who seemed 
the lord ot all the company. He called 
the bamboo-cutter, who immediatey 
prostrated himself and waited for what 
should follow. 

''Old man," said the Celestial Lord, 
''the company thou seest is a company 
of moon folk, and we are come to fetch her 
you call Kaguya, who belongs, like us, to 
the mountains of the moon. Years ago 
she offended our Mistress by giving her 
love without law and licence, and to 



138 ^abttrt anb ^tfiet Momen 

expiate her sin was doomed to live on 
earth, a virgin, in a poor man's house. 
The time of her punishment is now over, 
and I am come to convey her back to her 
own land." 

When the old man heard these words 
his heart sank within him, for he under- 
stood at last the cause of Kaguya's 
lamentations, and realised that she was 
about to be taken from him for ever. As 
he lay, stupefied by surprise and sorrow, 
the outer door of the bed-chamber flew 
open, the inner lattice-work slid back, 
and Kaguya herself stepped out on to 
the roof. When the Celestial Lord saw 
her he drew from the canopied car a 
Celestial Feather Robe and a joint of 
bamboo filled with the Elixir of Life, and 
with a low bow presented them to her. 

"Before I drink the Elixir," said 
Kaguya, ''and put on the Robe which 
takes away all memory of life on earth, 
there is something I must do." She 
glanced at the bamboo-cutter, still lying 
on the roof speechless, and taking from 



Cfie JJamboo-Cutter'sf ^torp 139 

her sleeve a pen and a scroll she wrote the 
following letter : 

* * Had I been born on earth, all my days 
should have been spent succouring my 
dear father to thank him for his kindness. 
But now I must mount into the sky where, 
on moonlight nights, my father may see 
my abode and remember his once-loved 
daughter who leaves him with grief in her 
heart.'' 

When she had finished this letter the 
Celestial Lord again took up the feathered 
Robe to put it on her shoulders, but she 
said: 

"Have patience; I have still another 
letter to write." 

And, taking another scroll, she wrote 
these words : 

*'Your Majesty will now understand 
why your servant could not obey your 
command, and will not think she was lack- 
ing in good manners. With deep regret 
she must now put on the Robe of Feathers 
and mournfully bid her lord farewell." 

This done, she resisted no longer; she 



140 ^abitrt anb 0tt)ev Momen 

drank the Elixir of Life, and as she did 
so the Celestial Lord threw over her 
shoulders the Robe of Feathers. Im- 
mediately the memory of her life on 
earth left her; she remembered only her 
forgotten kinsmen in the moon, and 
stepped eagerly into the canopied car 
which was to take her to her home. 
The bamboo-cutter gazed upon the cloud 
as it flew higher and higher into the sky, 
and finally, when he could no longer discern 
it, he returned alone to his bereaved house. 



141 



tE^tt fgutlbtns of ^6abar 



143 



Wi)t puilbmg of ^feabar 

T^HERE were once three brothers who 
^ wished to build a fortress. The 
eldest was King Voukashin, the second 
Ouglesha the Governor, and the third was 
Goiko. The fortress they wished to build 
was Skadar on the river Bojana, and for 
three years they worked at it with three 
hundred workmen. But not only were 
they unable to raise the walls, they could 
not even lay the foundations, for whatever 
they did during the day the Vila destroyed 
during the night. 

At the beginning of the fourth year 
they heard the Vila laughing in her home 
on the wooded mountain. 

''King Voukashin!" she cried, ''do not 
continue your vain efforts; do not waste 
all your treasure. You will not be able 
to lay the foundations of your town, far 
less to raise its walls, unless you find the 



144 ^abttrt anti <2^ti)er Momtn 



twins Stoja and Stojan and immure them 
in the foundations. Then alone will your 
work prosper, and you will be able to build 
your fortress." 

When Voukashin heard this he sent for 
Decimir, his servant. 

''Decimir, my dear son," said he, ''you 
have always been my faithful servant, but 
henceforth you shall be my child. Harness 
horses to my chariot and put in it six loads 
of gold. Travel through the whole white 
world and find for me those twins of the 
same name — find for me Stoja and Stojan ; 
if gold will not buy them, carry them off 
by force and bring them back to Skadar 
on the Bo j ana, that we may immure them 
in the foundations and build our fortress." 

So Decimir set off in the chariot laden 
with gold, and he travelled for three years. 
He travelled through the whole white 
world, but nowhere could he find the twins 
Stoja and Stojan, and in the end he was 
obliged to return to Skadar and tell King 
Voukashin of his failure. 

Then Voukashin, who all this time had 



^iie Jiuilbtng of ^kabat 145 

been waiting without attempting to go 
on with the fortress, summoned his three 
hundred workmen and fell to work once 
more. 

And again the voice of the Vila was 
heard calling from the wooded mountain: 

"Will you not listen to me, King 
Voukashin ? I tell you all your efforts are 
in vain, and you are spending your gold 
uselessly. But since you cannot find the 
twins Stoja and Stojan, listen again to 
what I say. You are three brothers, and 
each one has a faithful wife. Whichever 
of your wives comes down to-morrow to 
the Bojana bringing your dinner, seize her 
and immure her in the foundations. Then 
will your work prosper, and you will be 
able to build your fortress." 

On hearing these words, Voukashin sent 
for his two brothers and said to them : 

''Listen, dear brothers, to what the 
Vila told me. It is useless for us to spend 
our treasure; she will not let us lay the 
foundations, and still less raise the walls. 
But, she says, we are three brothers and 



146 ^abtttt anb 0ttftv ISIomen 

each has a faithful wife. Whichever of 
them comes down to-morrow bringing our 
dinner, we are to seize her and immure her 
in the foundations, and so shall our work 
prosper. 

"Now, my brothers, let us swear before 
God to keep the awful secret. Let us 
swear that none of us will tell his wife, and 
will leave it to Fate to decide which one 
comes down to the river to-morrow." 

So each one swore before God to keep 
the awful secret from his wife. 

When night fell they all returned to 
their white houses, ate a lordly meal, and 
then each one led his wife into the nuptial 
chamber. 

Then, behold, a great marvel! King 
Voukashin was the first to trample on his 
oath and warn his wife of the danger 
before her. 

"Take care! O my faithful wife, take 
care! Do not come to the Bonjana to- 
morrow, and do not bring our dinner. If 
you do, you will lose your life!" 



^fje JJuilbing of ^feabar 147 

Ouglesha also trampled on his oath and 
warned his wife of her danger : 

''Beware, my love, beware! Do not 
come to the Bojana to-morrow, and do not 
bring our dinner. If you do, you will 
have to die!" 

But young Goiko remained faithful to 
his word, and gave no warning to his 
young wife. 



The next day at dawn the three brothers 
rose and went down to the fortress on the 
Bojana. When the time came to carry 
down the dinner, where were the three 
princesses, the wives of the three brothers? 
The eldest sister caught up her linen — 
already bleached white in the sun — and 
carried it up to the sunny meadows to 
bleach it again. Up to the meadows she 
climbed and did not return. The second 
sister took up a red clay pitcher and went 
down to the spring for water. Down by 
the spring she lingered and did not return. 
The youngest sister, the wife of Goiko, 



14S ^abttrt anb 0tf)tx iHomen 

stayed at home without thinking of taking 
the dinner down to the Bojana, for she 
had a Httle son in the cradle — a Httle son 
not a month old — and she was watching 
over him. But the time of the meal came 
nearer and nearer, and at last the aged 
mother rose and called the servants to 
help her carry it down to the Bojana. 
When Goiko's young wife saw that she 
jumped up quickly. 

"Sit down, sit down, mother, I beg 
you," she said. "Sit down and rock my 
little son in his cradle, and I will carry 
the food to Skadar. For it would be a 
great sin before God, and a great crime 
before men, if, with three daughters, none 
were found to carry it but yourself." 

So the aged mother sat down by the 
baby's cradle while Goiko's wife called 
the servants to help her, and carried the 
dinner down to Skadar on the river Bojana. 



When she got down to the place where 
the men were building, Goiko saw her 



tlDJe Siuillrmg of ^feabar 149 

and his heart ached. He had pity on his 
tender young wife ; he had pity on his Httle 
son in the cradle, hardly a month old, 
and tears began to flow down his cheeks. 
His young wife came gently nearer to him ; 
she bowed before him and said in a soft 
voice : 

"What is the matter, my good lord? 
Why do I see tears on your cheeks?" 

And Goiko answered : 

' * I have had a misfortune, my dear wife. 
See! I had a golden apple, and it has 
fallen into the Bojana. That is why I am 
grieved and cannot be consoled." 

The young wife did not understand her 
lord ; but she answered : 

' ' May God give you good health. You 
shall cast another apple even finer than 
the one you have lost." 

But the hero's grief became more cruel, 
and he turned away his head, unable to 
look in his wife's face. 

At that moment his two brothers, 
Voukashin and Ouglesha, approached. 
They took her white hands and they led 



150 



^abtttt anil <2^ti}et Momtn 



her towards the fortress ; they called Rad, 
the builder, and Rad called the three hun- 
dred workmen. The young wife smiled 
for she thought it was in sport. But the 
workmen pushed her into the fortress and 
began to immure her; they brought stone 
and wood, and piled it about her, and soon 
the wall was as high as her knee. The 
young wife still smiled, for she still thought 
it was in sport; but the workmen went on 
heaping stone and wood around her, and 
soon the wall was as high as her waist. 
The stone and wood began to suffocate 
her,' and then the unhappy woman under- 
stood her fate. She gave a terrible cry, 
like the hiss of a viper, and began to im- 
plore her dear brothers-in-law : 

"Do you not fear God? Have pity on 
me — do not immure me thus — I am too 
young!" 

But her prayers were all in vain — the 
brothers did not even look at her. 

Then, forgetting her timidity and her 
shame, she besought her husband : 

"Oh, my good lord, do not let them 



Cde Muiltin^ of ^katiar 151 



immure me in this fortress — I am too 
young ! Send a servant to my old mother 
— my mother is rich, and she will buy a 
slave to be buried in the foundations 
instead of me." 

But her prayers were all in vain. 

When the young wife saw that her 
supplications were all in vain she spoke to 
Rad, the builder : 

' ' Brother in God, oh, builder Rad, leave an 
opening in front of my bosom, and let my 
breasts hang out, so that when my little 
Jovo comes he may suck and be fed." 

And Rad granted her request. He left 
an opening in front of her bosom, and let 
her breasts hang out, so that when little 
Jovo came he might suck and be fed. 

Once more the poor mother spoke to 
Rad: 

"Brother in God, oh, builder Rad, leave 
an opening in front of my eyes, so that I 
may see my white house and the path 
along which they will carry my little Jovo 
when they bring him to and fro." 

And once more Rad granted her request. 



152 



^abitti anb d^tfjer Momm 



He left an opening in front of her eyes, 
so that she could see her white house 
and the path along which they would carry 
Jovo when they brought him to and fro. 

Thus was she immured in the wall of the 
fortress. For a week she suckled the child 
they brought her, and then her voice grew 
feeble, and was silent. But the stream of 
milk still flowed on, and for three whole 
years the child was suckled. 



As it was then, so it is still. The stream 
of milk still flows from the walls of Skadar, 
and mothers who cannot suckle their in- 
fants find in this miraculous food an 
unfailing remedy. 



153 



tE^tt €omtiU9 of €tam 



155 



®fie Courtsfjip of €tain 

jV^IDIR the Proud, one of the kings 
of Fairyland, had a wife named 
Fuamnach, who was learned in charms 
and spells — she was a great witch. When 
Midir took a second wife, Etain of the 
Horses, Fuamnach was bitterly jealous, 
and by her spells changed her rival into 
a butterfly and whirled her way from 
Midir 's dwelling in a magic storm. For 
seven years Etain was driven to and fro 
by the magic winds, and then she found 
a resting-place for a little while in a lovely 
fairy bower. But it was not long before 
Fuamnach found out this hiding-place, 
and when she found it she sent the magic 
winds again to drive Etain over the land. 
Far and wide Etain was driven ; and at last 
she was blown in at the window of a castle 
belonging to a chieftain whose name was 
Etar. In the hall of the castle Etar and 



156 



^abtttt anb 0t^tx iBlomen 



his wife were sitting at supper, and just as 
Etar's wife raised her goblet to her lips to 
drink, the magic wind blew Etain into the 
cup and the woman swallowed her. Nine 
months she bore Etain in her womb, and 
then gave birth to a child more beautiful 
than had ever been seen ; but no one knew 
— not even the girl herself — that she was 
Etain, the wife of Midir the Proud, one of 
the kings of Fairyland. 

So Etain grew up as if she had been the 
daughter of Etar; and he brought up with 
her fifty maidens, the daughters of chief- 
tains, to be her companions. One day 
they went down to the riverside to bathe, 
when suddenly there appeared before them 
a young man seated on a brown horse that 
curveted and pranced, and shook his tail 
and curly mane in the sunlight. The 
youth had golden hair and bright eyes ; his 
mantle was green and long and waved in 
the wind ; on his back he had a shield with a 
golden boss and a golden rim, and in his 
hand he held a five-pointed spear; he 
looked long at Etain and sang these words : 



t!Df)e CourtsiJjip of €tam 157 



"Etain of the Horses has been chased 
by the winds, the winds of jealousy, 
whirling so fiercely. 

*'Etain has been swallowed — a heavy 
draught did she prove. 

* ' Etain shall be loved by a king, and the 
fairies shall toil for her. 

''Etain of the Horses in the end shall 
return to rest with our folk and hers." 

Then the youth disappeared, and Etain 
and her companions knew not where he 
had departed or what meant the words 
he had sung. 

At this time Eochy was king of all 
Ireland. And he summoned to Tara, 
where he held court, all the chieftains that 
they might do him homage and pay him 
the tribute that was his due. But they all 
refused to come, and declared that they 
would not go to Tara until Eochy had a 
wife that was worthy of him; so the king 
went forth to find a fair and virtuous wife. 

Far and wide Eochy travelled; and he 
rode to the north of Ireland and he rode 



158 ^abttrt anb 0tt^tx iSomen 

to the south, and at last he came to the 
country of Etar. And as he rode along 
that land he suddenly saw Etain standing 
by a spring of water where she had gone 
to wash her hair. Beside her was a silver 
comb and a silver basin with four birds 
chased on it and amethysts set in the rim. 
She had thrown off her purple cloak, and it 
lay on the grass beside her. Her tunic was 
a rich green silk under red embroidery of 
gold, and the gold and green flashed in the 
sun. With her white arms she was un- 
doing her hair to wash it ; and her hair was 
long and golden; it was in two tresses, 
each woven of four strands, and each 
strand was fastened with a golden ball. 
Her skin was white as foam, her eyes blue 
as hyacinths, and no fairer maid had ever 
been seen. 

When Eochy saw her he was seized with 
desire for her. 

''What is thy name," he asked, "and 
who is thy father?" 

*'My name is Etain," she answered, 
"and my father is Etar." 



ta^^t CQurtfi;{)tp of Ctam 159 

Then Eochy made no delay; he paid the 
customary gifts to Etar, wedded Etain, 
and brought her back to Tara to be his 
queen. 

Eochy had a brother called Ailill; and 
when Etain came to Tara, and Ailill saw 
her, he was seized with a great longing and 
love for her. And he blamed himself for 
loving his brother's wife, and he turned 
his eyes away from her. But all was in 
vain ; the picture of Etain was in his heart 
if it was not in his eyes, and so it happened 
that after a little while, he fell ill and no- 
thing could cure him. Eochy was sorry for 
his brother's illness, and asked him what 
was the matter with him, and Ailill sighed 
and said he did not know. 

The king was to go on a royal progress, 
and he lett Etain behind him, and gave 
into her charge his brother Ailill. ''Deal 
gently with him," he said to her, ''as long 
as he lives, and if he dies place a stone over 
his burial mound and write his name on it 
in letters of Ogham." 



i6o ^abitri anb defter Momen 

When Eochy had gone, Etain went to 
see AiHll, and when she came into his room 
AiHU gazed at her, and his sickness was 
somewhat reUeved. 

"Alas, Ailill," said Etain, "thou hast 
been lying in thy bed a long time — art 
thou indeed so ill?" 

"Yes," replied Ailill; "I no longer de- 
light in the sounds of the harp; I cannot 
drink the milk that is placed beside 
me." 

"What is it thou art suffering from, 
poor Ailill?" asked Etain. 

"If I told thee," answered Ailill, "the 
words would choke me as I spoke them." 

"What is the cause of thy illness?" she 
said. 

"Thy marriage with Eochy," he 
answered. 

And again she asked him gently, "What 
is thy illness, Ailill? Tell me; for I know 
many healing secrets, and perhaps I could 
cure thee if I knew thy illness." 

Then Ailill could contain himself no 
longer, and he broke out : 



tKije CourtsJfjip of Ctain i6i 

''Love is my illness — love which I have 
endured for a year. 

'*It is a fierce love — closer than the skin. 

**It is the four quarters of the earth. 

"It rushes up higher than heaven. 

' * It is a battle with a dream. 

" It is drowning in icy water. 

' ' It is a treasure under the sea. 

" It is wooing an echo. 

''This is my love — this is my passion 
for the woman I desire in vain." 

And Etain stood looking at Ailill; and 
she understood his illness and the cause of 
it, and she was sorry for him. And of pity, 
she said: 

"Ailill, thou shalt have thy desire. 
Come to-morrow at daybreak to the hill 
beyond the castle, and I will give thee what 
thou needest for thy recovery." 



All through the night Ailill lay awake, 
longing for the morning; but when the 
morning came his eyes were heavy with 
sleep and he did not wake till the sun was 



i62 ^abittt anb <2^ti)er QSlomen 

high in the heavens. Etain went to the 
hill beyond the castle at daybreak, and 
she had not been there long when a man, 
seeming like Ailill, came towards her. But 
she knew it was not Ailill, and she waited 
for him to come. When she had waited 
long she returned to the castle and found 
Ailill awaking from his sleep, lamenting 
bitterly that he had missed the tryst. 

''Do not be sorrowful," said Etain, 
''there is a morrow to follow to-day." 

And the next day again Etain went up 
to the hill; and again Ailill came not, but 
a man came in the likeness of Ailill; and it 
was so a third time. And the third time 
Etain spoke to the man and said : 

"My tryst is not with thee; why dost 
thou come? As for the man I would have 
met here it is not from love of him or fear 
of him that I come, but only from pity. 
And it is fitting that I should save the 
man from his sickness which is upon him 
from love of me." 

"It were more fitting for thee to tryst 
with me," said the man; "for when thou 



turtle Couttsdbtp o! €tatn 



163 



wast Etain of the Horses I myself was thy 
husband." 

''What meanest thou?" cried Etain, 
* * and who art thou and what is thy name ? ' ' 

"My name," said he, *4s Midir the 
Proud, and I am one of the kings of Fairy- 
land. We were separated by the spells of 
Fuamnach, but she is dead now, and thou 
canst safely return to dwell with me." 

"Return with thee!" exclaimed Etain. 
"Leave Eochy, the King of Ireland 
for a man whose lineage and land are 
unknown!" 

"My lineage," replied Midir, is the 
lineage of the fairies — the people of Dana 
— and I am one of the sons of Dagda. As 
for my land, it is a land of music, where 
smooth, clear streams flow through a Great 
Plain, to which the plains of Ireland are 
but deserts. In that land there is no 
'mine' and 'thine'; there is no old age; 
love is no sin; we behold men and are not 
seen of them. In that land the crowns of 
hair are like primroses, bodies are white as 
snow, cheeks pink like foxgloves, and eyes 



1 64 ^abttrt anb 0tf)tt Momen 

like blackbirds' eggs. Come with me to 
this land, oh, lady ; great happiness will be 
thine; thou shalt eat sweet food, and drink 
new milk and ale." 

But Etain replied, '*I will not go with 
thee; I know thee not; I will not leave 
Eochy for a stranger." 

''What if Eochy should give thee up to 
me?" asked Midir. 

''Then I will go with thee," she replied. 



After this Etain returned to the castle; 
and she found Ailill cheerful and well ; and 
the illness had fallen away from him, and 
the love of Etain that had caused the 
illness had vanished too, and he was a 
sound, strong man, once more. Etain and 
Ailill both rejoiced, and so did Eochy when 
he returned home; and he thanked Etain 
for the care she had taken of Ailill. 



Not long after, Eochy the King rode 
forth from Tara; he rode up a steep hill 



^Jje Courtjffjip of Ctain 165 

and looked at the plain below. It was 
summer-time, and the plain was beautiful 
with many colours ; the trees were blossom- 
ing and glowing with green, white, and 
pink. And as Eochy looked at the plain, 
suddenly there appeared before him a 
young man seated on a brown horse that 
curveted and pranced, and shook its tail 
and curly mane in the sunlight. The 
youth had golden hair and bright eyes; 
his mantle was green and long, and waved 
in the wind; on his back he had a shield 
with a golden boss and a golden rim, and 
in his hand he held a five-pointed spear. 

**Hail, king," said he to Eochy, "I am 
come to put myself under thy protection." 

''Welcome," replied Eochy; ''my pro- 
tection thou shalt have, though I know 
not who thou art." 

"My name is in no way renowned," 
replied the youth. "I am called Midir 
the Proud." 

"Why hast thou come?" asked Eochy. 

' ' I am come to play a game of chess with 
thee," replied Midir. 



1 66 



^abtttt anb <0tf)et Momen 



"I would gladly play with thee," re- 
turned Eochy, *'but the queen is now 
asleep, and the chess-board is in her 
chamber." 

* * I have with me a chess-board on which 
we might play," said Midir, and he took 
out a chess-board of silver and chess men 
of gold. 

"What shall the stake be?" asked 
Eochy, ''for I will not play without a 
stake." 

**Let the stake be whatever the winner 
asks," said Midir; and Eochy agreed. 

The first game they played Eochy won, 
for Midir did not put forth all his cunning ; 
and Eochy desired him to clear away the 
stones and rocks in the plains of Meath. 
The second game they played Eochy won ; 
and he ordered Midir to cut down the 
forest of Breg. The third game they 
played Eochy still won ; and he commanded 
Midir to build a causeway over the bog of 
Lamrach. 

And at night when Eochy slept, Midir 
and his host of fairies came and performed 



tZDiie €ouxtsAiip of <^tatn 



167 



all these tasks, so that in the morning when 
the king looked upon the face of the land 
he was amazed. And he was eager to 
play chess again with Midir; and they 
played, and this time Midir was the winner. 

"My stake is forfeit to thee," said 
Eochy. 

"Had I chosen, it had been forfeit in all 
the games," answered Midir. 

"What dost thou ask me to grant?" 
asked the king. 

And Midir answered, "That I may hold 
Etain in my arms and kiss her on the lips." 

Then the king was silent; but at last 
he said, "Come again one month from 
to-day and the thing thou hast asked shall 
be granted." 



Now in his heart Eochy feared an evil 
end to the business, and he resolved to 
prevent Midir from entering the castle. 
So he summoned the champions of Ireland 
to Tara, and he placed them all round the 
castle, both inside and out, to guard it from 



1 68 ^abitri anb <0tf)er 3Homen 

the approach of any stranger. And on 
the last day of the month, on the appointed 
night, Eochy was feasting in the hall of 
the castle, and Etain went to him to pour 
him out a goblet of wine, and suddenly 
they saw Midir, radiant and beautiful, 
standing before them. 

"King," said Midir, ''when I lost to 
thee I kept my promise and did as thou 
didst desire. Now thou hast lost, keep 
thy promise and give me Etain." 

When Etain heard these words she 
blushed and looked on the ground, for 
she remembered how she had agreed to go 
with Midir if Eochy gave her to him. 

Eochy was confused and angry, but at 
last he said to Midir: 

''Take her then in thy arms, here, 
before us all." 

And Midir took his weapons in his left 
hand and held Etain in his right arm ; and 
they rose up in the air and flew out by a 
window in the roof. Then Eochy and 
his champions rushed out of the castle, 
and above their heads they saw two white 



^fje Courtsifjip of etain 169 



swans which circled round Tara and then 
vanished from their sight in the blue sky. 
In this manner Etain of the Horses 
returned to Midir the Proud, one of the 
kings of Fairyland. 



171 



Hint of iSoofess Witith 



173 



ILi^t of Mooiii Hiiith 



SAVITRI 

The Mahabarata. Trans., Protap Chandra Roy. 
(Calcutta, 1884.) Lays of Ancient India. R. 
DuTT. (London, 1894.) Indian Myth and Legend. 
D. A. Mackenzie. (London, n.d.) 



THE LAY OF THE ASH TREE 

Lais, Marie de France. Seven of the Lays done into 
English, by E. Rickert. (London, 1901.) 



YANKA AND HER BROTHERS 

Contes de la Bosnie. M. Colonna. (Paris, n.d.) Volks- 
lieder der Serben. Karajick. (Halle, 1825.) 
Servian Popular Poetry. Trans., John Bowring. 
(London, 1827.) Poemes Nationaux du Peuple 
Serbe. Yakchitch et Robert. (Paris, 19 18.) 



SAINT IRIA 



Romanceiro Portuguez. Ed. V. E. Hardung. (Leip- 
zig, 1877.) Choix de Vieux chants Portuguais 
PUYMAIGRE. (Paris, 1881.) 



174 



1lts(t of 9oolt£( Wiieh 



VASSILISSA THE WISE 

Epic Songs of Russia. I. E. Hapgood. (New York, 
1886.) 

JANET AND TAMLIN 
English and Scottish Ballads. F. A. Child. 

LIBUSSA THE PROPHETESS 

Chronicon Bohemorum. Cosmas Pragensis. Ed., 
MiGNE. (Paris, 1854.) Bohmische Chronik. 
Wenceslaus Hajeck. Trans., Sandel. (Leip- 
zig, 1596.) Chants heroiques et chansons populaires 
des Slaves de Bohhme. Trans., Louis L^ger. 
(Paris, 1886.) 

JOUKAHAINEN'S SISTER 

Kalevala. Trans., W. F. Kirby. (London, n.d.) Le 
Kalevala. Trans., L. Leongeon le Due. (1879.) 
Kalevala. Trans. Y. M. Crawford. (1889.) 

THE BAMBOO-CUTTER'S STORY 

Myths and Legends of Japan. F. H. Dairs. (London, 
1912.) The Old Bamboo-Hewer's Story, Trans., 
F. Victor Dickins. (London, 1888.) 



THE BUILDING OF SKADAR 

Servian Popular Poetry. Trans., J. Bowring. (Lon- 
don, 1887.) Poemes Nationaux du Peuple Serbe. 
Yakchitch et Robert. (Paris, 1918.) Chants 
de Guerre de la Serbie. Leo d'Orfer. (Paris, 
1916.) Hero Tales and Legends of Serbia. Woislav 
Petrovitch. (London, 191 7.) 



Hisit of iiooits^ math 



175 



ETAIN AND MIDIR 



Heroic Romances of Ireland. A. A. Leahy. (Lon- 
don, 1905.) Legends of the Celtic Race. T. W. 
RoLLESTON. (London, 191 1.) 



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